


Tearing Down the Heavens

by zombolouge



Series: What is it with Redheaded Rogues, Anyways? [4]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: ALL THE SPOILERS, Action/Adventure, Arranged Marriage, Blackwall can't run, Canon-Typical Violence, Cassandra is also shipper trash, Cole is everyone's adopted son, Cole sweet cinnamon bun, Complicated Friendships, Disgusted Noise, Dorian is stubborn, Dramatically timed kisses, Druffalo Humor, Druffalo funerals, Druffalo indiscretions, Ensemble Cast, F/M, Feelings, Fluff and Angst, I am shipper trash sorrynotsorry, Inquisitor of the butts, Is that a button, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, M/M, Maker save the bees, Near Death Experiences, Orlesians being Orlesian, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Smut, Sturdy desks, Subterfuge, Tags May Change, Truth or Dare, Unrequited Love, Vivienne has weaponized calves, Vivienne will have none of your shit, chocolate frosting, diabolical women, get well presents, letters across Thedas, longfic is long, part of a longer series, practice dummy threat, sarcasm from everyone, seriously spoilers, slight AU, unpleasant family members, women rule the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2018-03-15 18:05:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 102
Words: 265,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3456728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombolouge/pseuds/zombolouge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of Autumn Trevelyan, sarcastic rogue and unwilling Herald, the third victim of fate in a series of rather unfortunate events.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. She is Awake

**Author's Note:**

> Updated on 07/22/2016: I have re-edited, rewritten, and added new content to the entire thing. 
> 
> For new readers: I have a lot of feelings about Dragon Age, and it resulted in a lot of words about Dragon Age. If you like fights, and romance, and a whole lot of SOLAS FEELINGS, then jump on in.
> 
> For Returning Readers: The beginning has the most changes, but there's new content and edits throughout the entire thing. Sorry about the comments getting all mish mashed, but I didn't want to lose them forever. IN ANY CASE, hopefully you enjoy a second readthrough, sorry again that I have SO MANY WORDS. 
> 
> Comments and inquiries welcome!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet Autumn Trevelyan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to add the lovely fanart of Autumn, drawn by NCGrimm, or grimmcake (grimmcake.tumblr.com), to this fic, as well as it's sequel currently in progress.
> 
> This entire fic has been rewritten since 07/22/2016. ENJOY ALL THE NEW WORDS, GUYS.

 

 

Maker's breath, everything fucking hurt.

 

She tried to bring her hand to her head, wondering why in the void she was sleeping sitting up. Her spine felt like it had been used as a xylophone by an enthusiastic qunari and left by the roadside, while the rest of her bones ached with the damp cold slinking through the air around her. She frowned in confusion when she discovered that she couldn't raise her hand up to reach her face, and she shuddered as the icy burn of metal dug into the sides of her wrists. _Manacles?_

 

She opened her eyes, trying very much to ignore the pounding headache that felt like a dagger between them. Blinking in uneven intervals that left spots behind her eyes, with a healthy dose of blurred vision in between, it took a few moments before the room started to come into focus. Not that it helped with her confusion.

  
She was in a jail cell, chained to the floor, and surrounded by four guards who looked exceedingly angry with her. She let her thoughts spin and tumble around in her head, trying to sift through an odd, overburdening presence of fear, to figure out what _exactly_ had happened. Generally if she was in a jail cell it was because of something she very much remembered doing...usually even enjoyed doing. But she had never been under _armed_ guard before, and she was pretty sure she was not actually still in the Free Marches, where most of her incarcerations had happened previously...or if she was, then she had lost a  _lot_ more of her memory than the wanted to think about.

  
Vague images of running away from some kind of creature floated in her head, but trying to pull the memories forward was like trying to grab a stream of water. She could see it, could fucking feel it, but whenever she tried to get a hold on it they just flowed away. This was not good. Not good at all.

  
In hindsight, she would like to say that she stood stoically to await her fate, that she was proud and relaxed in the knowledge she had done nothing wrong. The rumor of her strength would spread throughout the world, and her innocence would always shine through like a beacon to everyone that saw her. The truth of the matter was unfortunately much, much less glamorous.

  
Autumn glanced around the room, trying to decide between yelling or crying as the better option for her escape. In truth, the guards looked like they might respond to either emotional outburst with pure hostility. She had never been looked at with such vitriol before, not even the time she had gotten her neighbor’s prized purebred dog impregnated by that hideous mutt she had found in town (lovingly names Scrabbles by the kids who found him). These men were looking at her like they had caught her in bed with a darkspawn, like she was evil incarnate and deserved to be burned for the transgression of her very existence.

  
When her hand  _crackled_ she screamed in pain, all thoughts of the guards being driven out of her mind. She was about eighty percent sure that was not what hands were meant to do, and about ninety percent sure her hand, specifically, had never done such a thing prior. When the spasm passed she was too terrified to open her eyes again to check on the offending limb. Her whole arm felt like it was on fire, burning and pulsing like someone had ripped out her bones and replaced them with hot iron. Knowing she could never take it back, and positive that she didn't actually want to know, she opened her eyes and looked at her arm, her eyes widening as she took in the sight. She heard one of the guards say something and leave, but it was a secondary awareness to the more important matter of  _what the fuck was on her hand?_

  
Her palm looked like it had been ripped open, a gaping wound that would have been alarming under any normal circumstances. If it had been bleeding all over everything it would have been more of a relief than what was actually there, a feat she considered quite great considering that bleeding everywhere was rarely a preferable scenario. It looked like someone had separated her skin, dug out a nice hole, and poured liquid crystal into it, sealing it shut again. It shimmered in the darkness, putting out a sickly green light that reminded her of magic and spells, and a lot of things that did not belong on her _fucking hand_. It crackled again, angry magic hissing through the air and snapping against her skin, and she managed to keep her eyes open long enough to see actual sparks of energy fly out of it before she succumbed to the pain again, folding in on herself as much as her restraints would allow. The surge of agony reverberated through her like someone was banging against her bones, all the way from her palm to the base of her neck. She briefly considered begging the guards to cut off her arm, until the wave passed and the searing ache receded into a dull throb. She looked at her palm, and could have sworn the tear there looked bigger, which was the scariest prospect of all.

  
Distracted by her pain and new, exciting tattoo, she had missed the entrance of the two women. When she was yanked up roughly by a tall, furious stack of armor and feminine rage who started yelling in her face immediately, she was too disoriented to do much more than stammer that she didn't know why she was there, didn't know what the thing on her hand was, didn't know what was going on. She was obviously convincing though, through her dazed discomfiture, since the second woman lurking around the room seemed to buy her answers wholesale.

  
“Cassandra, calm down. We need her.” Her voice lilted like a cat’s purr, the faintly Orlesian accent slipping off her tongue with a dangerous grace. With a sickening feeling of dread Autumn’s memory was triggered, and realization hit her like a hammer to the shin. She recognized the name _Cassandra_ , and the famed sour demeanor certainly matched up with the rumors she had heard from those who had run into her in Kirkwall. These women were the left and right hands of the Divine, Cassandra the Seeker and Leliana the Nightingale, guardians of the most holy woman south of Tevinter (and within and further north, depending on which altar the viewer prayed at).  _Andraste's nug nuggets, what did I get into this time?_ It took all of her effort not to start crying, and even then it wasn't working as a hot, miserable tear worked its way out of the corner of her eye and down her cheek. She would have wanted to wipe it away before they saw, but having her hands bound made that impossible.

  
Barring dignity, she resorted to indignation. “Will someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?!” If they were going to see her fall apart, she might as well do it angrily. “I wake up cold and in pain, with _whatever the fuck_ on my hand, and the _this_ war machine starts jostling me around like a misbehaving sack of potatoes. Can all of you stop glaring at me long enough to at least _tell me what I’m being accused of?_ ” The women turned to her again, both looking slightly surprised at the sudden outburst. Cassandra, an angry monolith of muscle and sleek sinew, sighed heavily, seeming to accept some kind of defeat under Leliana’s shrewd gaze.

  
“Head to the forward camp. Tell them we are coming.” Cassandra’s words were clipped, just short of an order. Leliana nodded and left the room, her footsteps less than a whisper against the icy stone. Cassandra turned back around and began unshackling her from the ground, removing the manacles, and Autumn shuddered as air rushed to fill the empty space against her skin. Her wrists were then covered with a coarse rope, tied in a knot just short of painfully tight, effectively rebinding her. “It will be easier to show you what has happened, rather than waste words on an explanation that will not be believed until it has been seen.” her tone was still angry, but her treatment was less rough, so Autumn decided to accept her victories where she could get them, and did not struggle as she was led out of the cell. Not that she would be able to escape the woman if she had tried. The very same woman who had reportedly taken on an entire horde of dragons by herself. Autumn allowed herself to be herded up and out of the building she was in, and was relieved when she was hit with the shock of cold air that meant she was outside.

The feeling was not long lived when she glanced up into the sky.

  
“We're calling it the breach. A tear between this world and the next.” Cassandra’s voice sounded a thousand miles away. All Autumn could see, or feel, or hear, or even think about, was the terrifying, swirling green mass of cloud and despair that hovered above the mountains. It was huge, cutting across the sky in a sick mirror of what was on her hand. She could see bits of rock just…floating in it, defying gravity and all logic. Magic and power seared the air, even at this distance, prickling her senses like a lightning strike pulsing too close in the night. Boiling masses of energy shot out of it towards the ground every few seconds, and Autumn really, _really_ didn’t want to know if anything was in them.

  
Numbly, she listened while Cassandra explained to her that the Conclave had exploded, leaving _that_ in the sky, and a rift had formed and spit her out of it. She was the only survivor they knew of, and the mark on her hand seemed connected to the Breach, expanding as it did in equal measure.

  
“How the fuck did this happen?” Autumn was angry that her voice shook, hating the rawness of the emotions spilling out of her. Although she supposed if there was ever a time in her life to lose her grip on her emotions, this was fucking it.

  
Cassandra scowled at her. “We don't know. We had been hoping you would be telling us.”

  
“Wait, you think _I_ did this?!” fear coiled itself in her gut like an icy snake. That was worse than she had imagined.

  
Cassandra didn't respond, only strode forward, her legs perfect stomping machines that massacred the snowfall beneath her boots. As they moved, Autumn became very keenly aware of the angry stares from the people around them, lingering forlornly in makeshift tents and shelters. Cassandra was not the only one that thought she was the culprit, it seemed. These people really thought she had done something to murder an entire temple full of people? Autumn kept her head down, hunching her shoulders as though that would help hide her from the sheer and utter hate pouring out of each pair of eyes that they passed. She was a miscreant, but she could never hurt so many people…could she? The gaps in her memory and the loathing being directed at her made her doubt herself. Which didn’t bode well for how much doubt she would receive from people who _weren’t_ invested in her life continuing to remain un-assaulted by a guillotine.

  
When they crossed outside of town, Cassandra turned and cut her bindings. “I can promise a trial, nothing more.” Everything the woman said was terse.

  
Autumn glanced at the hole in the sky, still visible every time she closed her eyes. “Where are we going?”

  
“You'll see soon enough.” was all she was offered in return. Autumn didn't have the nerve to argue, but she was sure whatever was in store for her was not going to be good.

***

Cullen was convinced that they were all going to die. This whole thing was a mess, an even bigger mess than Kirkwall had been, and that was saying something. They were running out of soldiers in fit enough condition to fight, while the cursed hole in the sky spewed out a seemingly endless supply of demons. It was not possible to fight them all off. It was not even possible to hold consistent ground against them, at the rate they were collecting injured. Their forces were not ready for a conflict of this size, untrained and fledgling as they were. If only they had been given warning…

  
A familiar, needling voice penetrated his thoughts, and the headache holding a militant parade in his skull reached a crescendo in response. _Roderick._ The loudmouth chancellor running around the forward camp was not helping matters. He had been rushing around trying to get people to follow his orders, to varying degrees of failure. When he realized that his tactics weren't working, he had simply started repeating every order that Cullen issued, apparently feeling that the farce of authority was better than nothing at all. Cullen could see Varric eying the man as he ranted, his fingers twitching towards the trigger of his crossbow. He had to restrain himself from asking the dwarf to take the shot. Maker knew they would all be better off with a little peace and quiet, even if it only lasted until their grim and seemingly inevitable ends.

  
The two of them, dwarf and Commander, were standing around a small table set up on the bridge, staring down at papers with reports full of carnage and bad news. Solas was near, as well, the quiet apostate pacing back and forth, every now and again glancing up towards the breach as though silently asking it questions, his keen eyes narrowing and widening in turns. Cullen didn't know if he was getting any answers, but he wished he would stop pacing. It was making him nervous.

  
It was a relief to all of them when they saw Leliana jog through the gates, her soundless approach a welcome sight.

  
“Please tell me you have news.” Cullen tried not to growl with impatience. They had been throwing demons back from the camp for what felt like years, although it was probably only closer to days. It was hard to keep track. He hadn't slept or eaten more than a passing bite for longer than was safe for a soldier. Not that any of them had any options in that regard. Safety was also something that had blown out of the realm of possibility when the temple had been wiped off the map.

  
“She is awake.” Leliana wasn't even out of breath as she spoke, and Cullen marveled at the physical fitness of the quiet woman. “Cassandra is bringing her through now.”

  
“A path should be cleared to the breach. She is our only hope to seal it.” Solas said, done with his pacing for the moment.

  
“And if she can't?” Cullen asked. “I am not sending men out there to die for no purpose.”

  
Leliana laid a hand on his shoulder. “He's right, Cullen. If she can't seal the breach, it won't matter when your men died.” He resented the cold way she spoke, less so the token gesture accompanying it, but she certainly had a point. If the prisoner couldn’t seal the breach, they would all die. The only question would be when. One way or another, the tortuous onslaught would end. He wasn’t sure if he had the capacity to hope at this point, but there was a stubborn part of him marching towards success nonetheless. If this was their best option, then this was the course of action he would take.

  
“Fine. I will take what men we have left and clear a path through the valley as best we can. I pray you're right, mage.” He didn't give Solas a chance to respond before he stalked off, barking orders to the soldiers around him to ready themselves. This was going to be a long, long day.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want to give a nod to the fic that sparked a lot of the ideas I got for this one and really inspired me to get writing this whole big mess. It's seriously one of my favorite fanfictions ever and I hope they don't mind me posting a link here or taking inspiration from them. 
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/series/206828
> 
>  
> 
> For anyone that enjoys the reader comments: I apologize, this fic was updated and the chapters were re-ordered a bit, so the comments might be out of place in some parts. So if somebody says something and they sound like they don't know what they're talking about, they were right in the past so it's fine. :p


	2. Zestier Smelling Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which lemons make terrible weapons, Varric tries a nickname that doesn't work, and ladders become Autumn's nemesis

The breach was like a great eye in a haunted picture, and Autumn could feel it watching her wherever they went. They were crossing another bridge when a giant burst of green fell from the sky directly in front of them. Autumn found herself falling in a shower of bricks and dust, swallowed as the stonework collapsed beneath them. They hit the icy ground below, and Autumn immediately rolled, trying to lessen the impact and avoid the debris at the same time. She was somewhat successful. At least nothing seemed to be broken, although her left shoulder, the one connected to the marked hand, was screaming in protest.

A demon materialized a few feet away from them, rising out of the ground in a bubbling froth of magic. She watched it form at a horizontal angle, her head still pressed against the ground and skewing her vantage point. It opened something on its face that looked like a mouth if she squinted, and a rumbling moan poured out of it as it flexed its arms.

“Stay back!” Cassandra drew her weapon and launched at the thing, a unstoppable force of rage. Autumn staggered to her feet as another bubbling patch appeared next to her, close enough that she could smell the faintly metallic tang of magical residue. Cassandra was too far away and too occupied with the other demon. Frantically, she glanced around for a weapon of any kind amongst the rubble. All she could see were boxes, smashed and misshapen, and bowls of... _lemons?_ That wouldn't fucking help. The demon had risen from the ground now, its stench hitting her just before she heard it screech. It smelled like rotting eggs, and sounded like a dying cat being dragged through the mud. It lunged at her, and she ducked behind one of the splintering boxes, narrowly avoiding its claws. It turned to face her again, and she picked up one of the lemons and threw it as hard as she could.

The lemon hit it square in the face, spattering with a thick squelch. She was rewarded with nothing more than a slightly zestier smelling demon making its way towards her, not even flinching at the impact of the fruit. She turned around to run again and spotted the two short-swords on the floor a few feet away. They weren't daggers, but they would do under the circumstances. She raced over and grabbed them, spinning around just in time to block the claws that would have torn through the dress she wore, probably in a very fatal manner. Using the blades, she pushed forward and knocked the thing back, giving herself some space to work. She twirled the blades in her hand, testing their weight. They were slightly too heavy for her normal acrobatics, not that she thought she could confidently pull them off. She was far too shaken with the day’s events to be able to perform properly, and she was rusty from too many days trapped under her father’s thumb. It was hard to hold the blade in her left hand because of the pain in the mark, but she clung to it anyways, ignoring the throbbing as best she could. Deciding to play it safe, she avoided using the fancier moves she knew and went automatically for a simple killing blow, leaping upwards into the air and bringing her blades straight down into the monster's neck. It squealed at her and shuddered before falling over, blood spurting out of the wounds. She yanked the daggers free, backing up quickly to avoid the spray of ichor that gushed at her. Satisfied that it wasn't going to move anymore, she turned to assist Cassandra.

The woman had already dispatched her demon, and was now holding her sword pointed at Autumn. “Drop your weapons!”

“Alright! Have it your way.” Autumn said, in as non-threatening of a tone as she could muster. She let the blades fall to the ground, clattering against the ice. Cassandra seemed surprised by that for a moment before she sighed heavily. Perhaps dragons were less amenable to full surrender, Autumn thought absently.

“No, wait. I believe that what just happened proves I cannot protect you....I should not expect you to be defenseless, if I am otherwise occupied.”

Autumn nodded her thanks and picked up the short-swords, wiping the blades off on the hem of her dress, which had gone from a pretty pale green to a mottled red, covered in blood and ooze and who knew what else. Her leggings were torn and smeared with the same detritus. She grimaced at the mess she was in, but she didn't have time to do anything about it. How lovely she looked was the least of their concerns, although a very sarcastic part of her brain was sure to let her know that this is what she got for trying to dress up to appease the nobles at the Conclave. Had she hoped to be swept away by some benevolent white knight if she donned enough lace? Everything had a price. Apparently her escape came at the cost of the blood of hundreds, not the stitch of a pretty dress.

“Thank you.” Autumn offered, meaning it sincerely. “I know you don't trust me, but I _am_ here to help, if I can.”

“Truly?” Cassandra arched an angular eyebrow at her, an amused expression crossing her features. Autumn was guessing it was amused, at least. It was only half a degree different than her previously surly demeanor.

“Look, I don't know what the hell happened here, and I won't lie and tell you I'm not scared out of my mind. But that's not going to stop me from trying to fix this...whatever it is.” She waved her hand around in a vague arc, indicating their situation. “If this thing on my hand can help, then you have my word I will do what I can.” While running sounded like the wisest choice of action to save her own skin, Autumn meant what she told the Seeker. She wasn't about to leave the rest of the world to damnation simply because she had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. The wrongest place, at the wrongest time.

“That is...admirable of you.” Cassandra said, and Autumn could see she had impressed the woman.

“I'm not in it for admirers, but thanks all the same.” she smiled at her, and Cassandra cracked a grin that lit up her face. It was a relief to see the woman was not all hard edges and anger. Maybe, if she got out of this alive, she would be granted a modicum of mercy after all.

***

Solas saw Cassandra and the prisoner rush over the ridge out of the corner of his eye. He was familiar, at this point, with both of them; Cassandra with her raw energy and the woman with her mysterious mark. He had done what he could to keep her alive while the magic affected her...it was the least he could do, after all. He would be filled with regrets for an age over how this had progressed, but at the moment he had little time to consider his follies, past or present.

He watched her, despite the need to keep a considerable amount of his attention devoted to defeating the demons before them. She was fascinating, to say the least. Her face left an echo in the back of his mind, a nagging sensation that she was known to him, a piece of something familiar tossed out of time and left drifting, unmoored, in the present. As he watched her small frame enter the fray, he was surprised to note that she knew how to fight, launching herself at the demons with a pair of daggers gripped in her small hands. She was tiny, yet clearly a force to be reckoned with. He would not have pictured the comatose noblewoman, slumbering in such a delicate dress, capable of waking up and becoming...this. Her short red hair curled about her face like a halo of fire, her evergreen eyes alight with battle lust. She was covered in gore from what he could only assume were altercations that they had gone through to get there, but somehow that only added to her…for a moment the word escaped him, her presence inspiring a feeling that felt like there was no language that he could ascribe to provide it meaning. Finally, he settled on the common word “glow”. That was a sufficient enough way to describe it. She seemed to have a _glow_ about her that drew him to her, something that he hadn't noticed while she had slept, even in his intent study of her being, but now seemed all too obvious.

The last demon fell, and Solas did not hesitate. He walked up to the woman and grabbed her wrist, her bones thin beneath his grasp. He felt a jolt of electricity pass through him, echoes and murmurs of things he had little time to understand, but he steeled himself against it and held her hand out towards the glowing rift, before it could pull through any more unwanted guests. He felt her try to jerk away, here eyes full of stunned offense and indignation, before her face twisted in pain. A burst of energy flew from the rift and connected to her hand, the air tingling and warming with the surge. He could feel it passing back and forth between her and the rift before she screamed and yanked her hand down, away from Solas and into her chest where she cradled it as though wounded. The energy severed with the motion, the beam dissipated into sparks into the cold air, and with it went the rift, popping out of existence and leaving nothing more harmful than a shimmering scar across the air, imperceptible to the normal observer.

She glowered at him, hurt swimming in eyes that seemed delicate now that they were open. They had a subtle upward slant, long lashes folding closed as she alternated between blinking and glaring. For a moment, he felt almost as though he were being swallowed in them, lost in a forest deep enough to hide him from the rest of eternity. He shrugged off the perplexing thoughts as her acutely shaped, dusty-rose colored lips pursed at him, her entire posture becoming an accusation. A flash of guilt passed through him for his abruptness, for his role in all this, but he quickly brushed it off. It was no matter what she felt about things, for they had to be done. He would utilize her to fix this whether she was willing or not, and he could waste hours on regret once it was ended.

***

Autumn felt like her arm had been numbed, which was surprisingly not a relief. She could almost feel the sting of the elven man's hand around her wrist still, the rest of the limb tingling as though waking up from being frozen. She could hardly move her fingers at all, each feeling too large and heavy, no longer a part of her and reluctant to obey her will.

“You...did it.” Cassandra had incredulity sinking through her voice. Autumn turned to her and gave her a smirk, despite the pain and shock running through her system.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” she muttered, earning an eye roll from the Seeker.

“It seems I was correct, after all.” the elven mage said, quietly, and Autumn's gaze snapped back at him. She was angry that he had touched her without permission, angry that he had done whatever he had done with her hand. He was staring back at her, deeply blue eyes boring into her as though dissecting her, taking her apart at the seams to examine what made her tick. His face gave away no hint of what he was thinking, his passive body language no help to her either. She had the sudden urge to slap him, or run, or scream, or do something to expel some of the deep fear and frustration that she felt under his regard.

“Don't get smug, Chuckles.” the stocky dwarf adjusted the glove on his hand, eying the elf with a raised brow. She turned to look at him, taking note of his impressive crossbow. He was a square-set man in a bright red shirt, hanging open in the front to reveal a not insignificant quantity of luscious chest hair.

“Aren't you cold?” Autumn blurted the question before she could censor herself. She immediately felt herself blush as the dwarf arched a smirk in her direction. “Sorry, ignore me, I'm an idiot.” she tried to remember how to act in civilized society and cursed her own awkwardness. _Making friends as usual, Autumn. Excellent social skills._

The dwarf laughed heartily in response to that. “Oh, this should be interesting. Allow me to introduce myself, my lady. Varric Tethras, at your service. Rogue, storyteller, and currently unwelcome - and yes, _cold_ \- tag-along.” he winked at her, and she couldn’t help but smile back at him. Thank the Maker not everybody in this outfit was all frowns and infinite stares.

“It's a pleasure to meet you and your chest hair, Varric.” she bowed her head towards him. He laughed again, and she heard Cassandra make a disgusted noise behind her, although at what she could not say.

“My name is Solas, if we are to have introductions.” the elf bowed his head in turn. She glared at him, trying to think of something witty to say to him, but she was at a loss. At least he was giving her a pleasant smile now, as opposed to that ineffable stare from earlier.

“So, do you have a name, or do we just call you 'the prisoner' forever?” Varric asked.

“Sweet Maker, I never even asked...” Cassandra slapped her forehead with a gloved hand.

Autumn smiled back at her reassuringly. “All things considered, I forgive the lack of courtesy.” she told her, and the warrior smiled weakly. “Autumn Trevelyan, at your service.” she bowed deeply, flourishing her uninjured right arm.

“Trevelyan? Isn't that...you're from the Free Marches, yeah?” Varric asked.

“Yes.”

“Yes, I think I know your brother...” he trailed off, his brows furrowing. “And possibly your cousin.”

“Well I'm sorry if you do. On both accounts.” she scoffed, and he grinned again.

“Yeah, I was too. On both accounts.”

“We should press forward.” Cassandra glanced up into the sky, urgency and worry marring her features.

They obeyed the command without question, silently moving onward towards the forward camp. They encountered a couple pockets of demons along the way, but made shorter work of them now that the party had been expanded. Cassandra and Solas lead the train from the front, and Autumn and Varric fell in step together behind them.

“I didn't even know the Trevelyan's _had_ a daughter. At least, not your branch of the family. You’re the ones from Ostwick, right?” Varric’s words came between puffs of breath that sent little clouds of mist into the air.

“Yes, Ostwick, and they don't...” her face screwed up into a cruel smile, trying to find a way to talk about it without talking about it at all. “I haven't gotten out much in recent years.” she said finally. Varric eyed her critically, but thankfully let the subject drop. She had a feeling this wouldn’t be the only time he would interrogate her, but at least he was kind enough to let it be for now. She liked the little man, but she hardly knew him well enough to go into detail about her shadowy past. She would prefer not to go into it at all, in fact.

They reached the top of a long flight of snow covered steps and were greeted with another small rift. The soldiers there were harried and desperate, calling out to the party the moment they came into their line of sight. Autumn didn't wait for Cassandra to act first this time, and dove in to fight the monsters instantly. They cut the beasts down, creating a lull in the onslaught, and as soon as she saw the opportunity she stuck her hand out towards the rift, trying to beat Solas to the punch before he tried to use her limbs without permission again. The same thing happened as before, energy shooting out of her arm and connecting with the tear in the veil. It hurt, burned and pulled at her like it was trying to suck her in, like her muscles were frayed twine and the energy wanted to spin her until she eventually unraveled. She had to focus on her arm and yank down, pulling it shut like closing a door in a windstorm. It worked, though, and the rift disappeared, sputtering sparks like dying fireflies that drifted into the battle stained snow. The soldiers were staring at her with awe and fear, but she was too tired and full of pain to care at the moment. She felt like all the breath had been drained from her lungs, and she leaned over and gasped for air, her knuckles growing pale as she clutched her knees.

“Shit, are you alright?” Varric placed a hand on her back, feather light and yet still too much. She jumped and moved away from his touch, but immediately felt remorse for the instinctive flinch. She would have to relax a bit, and remember these people were not trying to kill her...not presently, at any rate.

She gave him a tremulous smile. “I will be...it just...hurts.” Her breath mucked up the rhythm of her voice, but she managed to get her point across. He frowned at her, his brows knitting together above his crooked nose.

“Hey, this isn't gonna hurt her, is it?” Varric volleyed the question over to Solas, who was keeping his face impassive as he watched her.

“I do not know.” he admitted finally. Autumn clenched her jaw. _Great, just perfect_. Wake up in a cell, manage to convince the hands of the Divine – the _dead_ Divine – not to kill her, fight some demons and seal a couple insane holes in the veil, only to be killed slowly by creepy magic grafted to her arm. _Lovely_.

“It doesn't matter, we need to keep moving.” she said, after she had caught her breath. Varric and Cassandra exchanged looks, but said nothing. The guards opened the gates in front of them, and they walked onto the bridge where the forward camp had been established. Autumn recognized the other woman from the jail cell earlier, standing at a table with a chancellor from the chantry. They looked to be having a heated argument.

As they approached, the woman gestured to them. “Here they are. Chancellor Roderick, this is-”

“I know who she is. Why is she not in chains? Bind her, I want her ready to face execution in Val Royeaux as soon as possible.” he spat, scowling at Autumn with vitriol enhanced by the watery quality of his eyes. Autumn recoiled from him inadvertently, backing into Varric who was watching Cassandra with a great deal of curiosity.

Autumn found out why moments later, when the Seeker loomed in close to the cleric’s face. “You presume to order _me?”_

His thick brows converged across his pockmarked forehead, the side of which was beading with sweat. “Are you not a servant of the Chantry?”

Leliana snickered, rolling her eyes. “We served the most holy, Divine Justinia. We do not take orders from _you_.” With that everyone started ignoring the blustering man, which made Autumn feel hopeful that if she did survive this, she was at least less likely to be held prisoner and dragged to her execution in the clutches of the angriest pickled beet she had ever seen.

“Leliana, what is our status?” Cassandra stepped away from the chancellor, turning her back to him as he worked his mouth open and closed wordlessly.

“The Commander is trying to clear a path, but I fear it may not be enough.” Leliana sounded worried, which was incredibly unnerving to Autumn. Everything she had heard about the woman painted her as an unshakable shadow, waiting for the Divine's bidding to strike at her foes. She tilted her head at Autumn. “Was she able to close them?”

“Lady Trevelyan has been most successful, yes.” Cassandra replied. _Oh good_ , Autumn thought, _I'm officially not 'the prisoner' anymore_.

“Good, we need to get her to the breach. I suggest we take the mountain path.” Leliana gestured to the mountains to their north, where Autumn could just see a path leading into an entrance carved in the granite and ice.

“We should give up this nonsense, before the rest of the people here are killed.” Chancellor Roderick interrupted the conversation, loudly, spittle escaping his tongue to rest as ghostly white flecks against his lips. The thin mustache above his mouth quivered with poorly suppressed self-importance.

“Isn't there something you can cast to shut him up?” Varric asked Solas, earning a sharp glance of fear from the clergyman.

“I will take it under consideration.” Solas kept his face passive, but the words held an ominous and subtle promise to them that made Autumn wonder if he really meant it. The Chancellor sputtered, his face turning as red as the robes that he wore, a fruit ripening and rotting in one fell swoop of color.

“We can't take the mountain path, it's too dangerous. We lost a whole squad of people down that path.” Cassandra ignored the chancellor’s outburst with steely resolve and, from the looks of it, minimal effort.

“Yes, but we could lose your entire party if you go into the Valley. The Commander doesn't have the forces to clear the path.” Leliana replied. The women both bowed their heads in consideration.

Cassandra turned to Autumn. “Well, what do you think?” 

“Me?” she gaped at them, mystified as to why they would want her opinion.

“You are the one we have to get through...” Varric shrugged and let the unfinished explanation hang.

“So, wait, let me get this straight then. If we go through the mountain path we might rescue some scouts, but troops in the valley will die, but if we go through the valley the scouts are definitely dead, though we might save some soldiers?” she looked into each of their faces, finding no real answers among them.

“I would not have put it quite like that, but yes, that is essentially the case.” Leliana smirked at her. “The more pressing issue is not how many people we save, so much as which option is safest to get _you_ through.”

“To the void with that! People are always the most pressing issue...” Autumn began to pace while she considered. “Can we get a message to this Commander and have him pull his troops to safety while we take the mountain pass? If he doesn't have to keep the path clear, would he still be needed there?”

“We could have him pull everybody into the Temple to wait for us...” Cassandra began.

“Good, then we do that, head through the mountain pass, and kill two birds with one stone.” Autumn drove her fist into the palm of her hand for effect, immediately regretting the action as her mark sputtered. She bit back the scream of pain and focused all her effort on keeping her expression neutral. The party of people all looked fairly impressed with her solution...except for Roderick, who still looked like an angry pomegranate.

“Alright then. Leliana, send the word, we will meet you at the temple when we can.” Cassandra slapped the woman on the shoulder, and they all moved forward to the end of the bridge, and the beginning of the path to the foot of the mountain.

“This is folly, Seeker. Folly!” Roderick screeched at their backs, his voice grating against Autumn’s very last nerve.

“Get bent.” she snapped at him. She had no patience for people who insisted on sitting around and complaining when there were things that could be done. She smiled at the noise of indignation the man made, like a druffalo in heat, before they were too far away for him to be heard any longer.

“I like you.” Varric declared, a grin of satisfaction plastered on his face. She gave him a brief pat on the back in response.

They made their way through uneven snowfall to the mountain path and started climbing the ladders that led into the entrance of the mountain. By the second ladder set, Autumn was cursing heights, cursing mountains, cursing snow, and cursing being injured.

“Why can't things ever be, like, at the end of a path through a comfortable hot spring or something?” she huffed, eliciting a chuckle from Varric as he clambered over the top next to her.

“Because humans are idiots, always building on top of mountains instead of under them.”

“I believe the dwarves just burrowed equally far in the other direction.” Solas eyed the dwarf with amusement.

“Well, dwarven, human, elven, whatever, _Fuck ladders_.” she threw up her hands, wincing when the motion jarred her sensitive left arm. “Fuck, this thing hurts!” she hissed, massaging the offending hand.

“Is there anything...we can do?” Varric asked, directing the query to no one in particular.

“Sealing the breach is the best hope. I believe if we close it the mark will stop growing, which will presumably ease your pain.” Solas watched her hand as he spoke, the smallest crease forming across his brow.

“Presumably, huh? So, in other words, if I’m _lucky_ I might live, and if I’m _really lucky_ I might not have to spend my life in horrible, agonizing pain.” she sighed, rolling her shoulder to ease the strain on the aching arm. She knew she was being unnecessarily dour, but optimism was not really something she felt a strong connection with at the moment. She watched Solas face as it shifted, the muscles flexing imperceptibly. She couldn’t say what was different, and she couldn’t say how she knew, but she could see genuine concern in his expression in that moment, and it eased her fear of him.

“You must have faith.” Cassandra said, squeezing her shoulder lightly.

“Tell you what, you have all the faith, I'll just do the magic marky thing, and maybe between the two of us we can save the world.” She grinned stupidly at the warrior woman, who laughed and shook her head.

“Awe, Joker, buck up.” Varric said.

“Joker?” she quirked and eyebrow at him.

“I was testing it out...maybe not though.” he shook his head. “I'll find one, don't you worry.”

“You’re nicknaming me?” she blinked at him owlishly before her lips split in to a wicked grin. “I thought you weren’t supposed to name the pets you thought were going to die.” He laughed, and was about to say more, when they reached the opening to the mine shaft and realized that it was flooded with demons. The conversation fell to the shadows as they picked up arms and got back to the business of fighting through the madness that had befallen the world.

They worked their way through the dark tunnel, leaving a trail of dismembered spirits in their wake. Autumn was relieved that her fighting skills were coming in handy, and hadn’t all been forgotten over the last year and a half. It had been a long time since she had actually been able to practice, after her father had started cracking down on what he called her “rebellious streak”, she had been forbidden from doing much of anything. It was good to move, good to feel the power of her own body again, and exhilarating to eviscerate demons with that power. There was a strange sense of release she got from it, as though doing this made what was happening to her less severe. Her only real complaint was that she didn't have any armor on. She had several cuts and new bruises, and of course the pain that was her entire left arm. Although it was a small blessing that the dress was short, with leggings instead of the long, flowing gowns she was urged to consider by her retainers. It made it easier to ride in the shorter dresses, so she had worn them most of the trip, a small frilly skirt resting just above her knees. This dress had actually been one of her favorites, a pale green, with dark green leggings, and a warm, long sleeved tunic underneath that matched the tights. It was in tatters now, barely recognizable from what she remembered it looking like.

They left the tunnels and worked their way down the other side of the mountain. Her palm crackled with energy before they actually saw the rift this time, signaling to the group what was up ahead. They broke out into a run simultaneously, pushing forward until the glowing tear came into view. Autumn let herself feel a small surge of relief when she saw the group of scouts were there, still alive and fighting the demons that the rift spat out. They ran forward as one and dispatched the monsters, giving the scouts a much needed reprieve. She held out her hand and closed the rift, just like she had the others. It still hurt, and she felt her eyes water against the bone shaking pain, but she was at least getting used to it from a mental standpoint, as she had been able to brace herself for it and hold her arm steady through the fiery throbbing.

“You are becoming quite proficient at this.” Solas leaned against his staff as he spoke, and she assumed it was high praise coming from the quiet mage.

“Thanks.” she said, trying to figure out what exactly his intentions were. She couldn't read him, couldn't tell what exactly he hoped to get out of all of this. Perhaps he really was here to help, out of the goodness of his heart, but Autumn felt like there was something more there behind those deep blue eyes. People with eyes like that had seen too much, and often times the things they had seen had broken them. And broken people couldn’t be trusted, a fact that she was intimately aware of.

“Lady Cassandra, thank the Maker you got here when you did! I don't think we could have handled another wave of them.” one of the scouts told the Seeker, clutching at a stomach wound that leaked thick red rivulets over her fingers.

“Don't thank me, thank Lady Trevelyan. She insisted we find a way to come through here, in case you were still alive.” Cassandra deferred the scout's attention towards Autumn.

“You must be...” the woman trailed off, her eyes growing wide.

“Yes, yes, the prisoner, she who lived, closer of rifts and saver of scouts, that's me.” Autumn replied airily. Solas breathed a small laugh through his nose behind her, and she felt gratified he enjoyed her brand of humor.

“Thank you so much, my lady.” The scout bowed deeply, despite the fact that it looked incredibly painful for her to do so.

“Oh, for Andraste's sake...” Autumn mumbled at the gesture. “It was just the decent thing to do.”

“The path through the mountain is clear for now. You and your team should make your way back to the forward camp.” Cassandra told the scout. The girl nodded, and the small retinue began to make their way towards the direction their own group had just come from.

“The temple is just down this last ladder.” Cassandra told Autumn, gesturing to a final drop just around the bend. Autumn groaned loudly.

“Fucking. _Ladders_.” she ground out the words through clenched teeth, stomping towards the offending structure angrily. She heard all three of them chuckle in response as they followed her. She idly hoped that when she was dead, perished from terminal blisters all over her glowing green hands from an overabundance of ladder rungs and evil sky magic, that Varric wouldn't decide to stick with “Joker” to put on her tombstone.


	3. Haunted by Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cullen is struck speechless, a pride demon is vanquished, and Solas is unsettled

Cullen felt like he could pitch forward into the ash on the ground, close his eyes, and never get back up again. The long days of fighting, the countless minor injuries all over his person, the heavy weight of his armor and weapons; it all seemed entirely too much at the moment. He had been gleefully relieved when Leliana had arrived and told them to push forward into the relatively empty rubble of what was left of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. He was too tired to even ask why, just pass the order along to his men to carve their way through and into the area. Blessedly, they finally had a respite, the demons being further off and not interested in bothering their current location, at least for the time being.

Nobody else seemed to be faring much better than he was. There was no conversation, no idle chatter amongst the men and women littered about the area. They all sat in stony silence, staring up at the breach, waiting for the prisoner to arrive and do whatever it was they planned to do. He hadn't much hope left that they would succeed at this point. Somewhere in his heart a prayer rattled around, beseeching the Maker to help them through this endeavor, but the front of his mind was more resigned, waiting for the end to fall on top of him so he could get some blasted sleep already.

He was pulled out of his reverie by a skin of water being thrust into his face. He looked up and saw Leliana smiling down at him where he sat on a rock, trying to ignore the fact that it was glowing beneath him. He grabbed the skin and took a deep drink, water escaping his lips and dribbling down his chin, the drops making plinking sounds against his breastplate.

“This _will_ work.” Leliana’s soft voice felt much louder in the eerie quiet.

Cullen regarded her for a long time before he could bring his thoughts together enough to respond. “How can you sound so sure?” his voice cracked, and he grimaced at the sound, taking another swig of the water.

“I met her.” She shrugged, as if that should be explanation enough.

He was about to respond when Cassandra, Varric, Solas, and the prisoner in question came around the corner, and he finally got his first look at the woman they were pinning so much hope upon.

He hadn't expected to feel like he had been hit with a bolt of lightning when he laid eyes on her. She looked...he could hardly find words to describe how she looked. She was covered in blood, gore, and he could only guess what else. Completely battered and bruised, she was limping slightly as the quartet marched forward. She favored her left arm, holding it across her stomach as though afraid it would fall off. Filth clung to her, a desperate mess, but despite all that...she was a vision to him. Her messy red curls were thrown about her head in almost every direction, as wild and untamed as the fire they resembled. Her rosy cheeks and red lips were aglow from exertion. She was like Andraste herself, risen from the fires of her execution to come stumbling through the leagues of the damned, making her way forward to save them all.

He stood up quickly, back rigid as he watched her approach. He felt like his mind was spinning even more than it had before, thoughts rushing in confused circles that collided and then sped up again. The group reached them, and he heard Cassandra start talking, but he couldn't bring himself to tear his eyes away from the prisoner.

“Commander, this is Autumn Trevelyan.” the use of his title snapped him out of his daze, and he nodded politely to the woman.

“My lady.” he bowed his head, his voice softer than he meant it to be. Maker's breath, what was wrong with him? He must be far too exhausted from the battles to be able to keep his head on straight.

He was surprised and amused when she snorted. “You know, I don't think I have been called a lady so many times in my entire life. Who knew you just had to cover yourself in buckets of blood to get a little respect?”

Cullen felt his jaw drop open, but he had no control over his face, no control over his mind. He couldn't believe what she had just said. She was smirking at him, laughter dancing in eyes that were the deepest green he had ever seen. He knew that he looked like an idiot, but he couldn't seem to help it.

“You'll have to forgive our Commander, Firefly, he seems to be dumbfounded by your infinite glory.” Varric's sarcastic comment finally shook him enough to bring him to his senses. He closed his mouth and cleared his throat, but before he could speak she was shaking her head at the dwarf.

“Firefly? Where did you even get that one?”

“What, fire like your hair? No, you're right, it's awful.” he rubbed his chin with his hands. Cullen stared between the two, trying to figure out what exactly they were talking about.

“We should proceed to the breach.” Solas interrupted the entire display with prim pragmatism.

They all moved forward as one group to stand at the edge of the area. Autumn looked up at the spiraling hole in the sky with trepidation, the swirling green crystals of the largest rift casting splotches of light across the cracked stone. Her lips parted as she took in the nightmare-scape before them.

“What am I supposed to do with that?” her voice was shaking with a tumult of fear and exhaustion.

“Waving your arm around seems to be working nicely.” Varric drawled.

“Look how high up that is! How am I even supposed to get to that?” she gestured at it angrily, as though trying to admonish it for being inconvenient.

“You must seal it. This one was the first, it is the key.” Solas told her firmly.

“Oh, that easy is it?” she hissed back at the elf, who actually looked somewhat chastised at her comment, an expression Cullen had never seen on the stoic mage.

“Come, let us move into the crater, we will have a better vantage point there.” Cassandra’s tone was one that brooked no argument from those gathered, and they scrambled to follow her command.

***

They walked down the ruined pathway while Autumn kept the weird form of the rift in view out of the corner of her eye. It was like a floating gem, green crystal jutting out at odd angles, creating rainbows around the walls as the light hit the prismatic stone. Except this stone also seemed to be alive. The crystalline arms moved, stretching in and out from the center, reaching towards the world and straining to break free. Green mist swirled off the surface, bursts of energy arching away from various points before returning to be reabsorbed by another point. It looked beautiful, but very, very deadly. Looking at it, Autumn was convinced that there was no chance that this process wasn’t going to kill her.

“Now is the hour of hour victory!” she jumped as the deep voice suddenly rumbled through the crater. She grabbed the short blades from her back, searching the area for its source. The others in the party did the same, the ring of steel grinding against steel as weapons were unsheathed following the voice's echo. “Keep the sacrifice still.” the disembodied sound boomed further. The timbre of the utterance made Autumn's heart feel like it had stopped, fear buzzing at the edge of her mind with a memory she could not quite grasp, a light just over the horizon but out of view.

“What are we hearing?” Cassandra asked of no one in particular.

“At a guess? The person who created the breach.” Solas spoke with a sense of self assurance that Autumn found slightly suspect.

“Someone, help me!” this time it was a higher, frightened voice pitching towards them, with the heavy accent that couldn’t be mistaken for anything but Orlesian.

“That was the most holy!” Leliana gasped. She turned around in a circle, trying to find the source yet again, as though hoping the woman herself would be there, alive and well against all odds.

“The fade bleeds into this place. I believe we are hearing a memory of what happened.” Solas told her softly, breaking her hope with just a few words. She recollected herself and withdrew into her hood, but Autumn saw the tears at the corner of her eyes before she could fully hide herself.

Suddenly Varric let out a strangled gasp and grabbed Cassandra's hand, pointing towards a cluster of bright red stone jutting out of the wall in front of them. Autumn watched as the woman's eyes widened, her eyebrows rising high.

“Seeker, that's red lyrium!” the dwarf growled.

“I see it, Varric.” She gingerly removed her hand from his as they continued forward.

“What's it doing here, Seeker?”

“I don't know, Varric.”

Autumn approached the lyrium to examine it. She had always thought lyrium was blue, not red. How odd. She reached out to touch it without thinking about what she was doing, the shining red drawing her in, lulling her with a quiet song like it was calling to her. It was pretty...in a way. She just wanted to feel it against her fingers...

“Don't touch it!” Varric's hand slapped hers away harshly, snapping her out of it as he glared at her angrily. “It's evil, stay away from it!”

Rubbing her hand where the hit still stung, she nodded at him solemnly. He didn't need to tell her twice. She could feel the sense of _wrong_ that emanated from it, now that she wasn't being compelled by it anymore.

“Are you alright?” the Commander asked in a low voice, soft enough so that only she could hear, his warm, honey colored eyes on her hands, one red from slap the other bright green from the mark. She watched him carefully while she decided on whether or not to answer him. He was a tall and imposing figure, draped in armor and a ridiculous set of fur pauldrons that made him look like he had a mane of red and black feathers. His face was kind, however, despite the fact that she had only seen it screwed up with an exhausted frown, stubble dotting his jawline as the muscles there tensed in stress. His fine blonde hair was arranged neatly atop his head, or it must have been at some point before the days exertions had left it in a frazzled mess, curls escaping here and there. He had soft pink lips, with a very fascinating scar on the left side that moved whenever he spoke. She found herself watching the small white line as though it were the most interesting thing in the world. “My lady?” he said again, placing a hand on her shoulder, startling her back to the present. How long had she been staring at him?

“Sorry, yes, I'm fine.” she shrugged off his hand and moved forward again. She could feel a slight heat creep into her cheeks, and wondered if the days trials were removing her of her sanity.

They reached the last ledge and dropped down into the pit, dust and ash puffing up around their feet, further muddling the air around them. Autumn walked towards the glowing monstrosity before her, glaring at it as though if she stared it down it would bend to her will.

“Shit...what's going on here?” Autumn nearly fell over with the shock of hearing her own voice echo out from the midst of nowhere, loud in the silence of the crater.

“Run while you can, warn someone!” The Divine's voice pleaded with her.

“That was your voice!” Cassandra snarled, her eyes heating up like forged steel. “You were there! The Divine called out to you!”

They were all blinded by a bright flash emanating from the center of the crystal rift before them. Magic arced up high, buzzing loudly before several streams seemed to meld together, forming a glass-like plane before them. Autumn watched as figures became visible on it, a dark shadowy monster with red glowing eyes, Divine Justinia suspended before him, arms outstretched and terror on her face.

“Now is the hour of our victory.” the shadowy figure recited, echoing what they had heard earlier. “Keep the sacrifice still.” it held out a clawed hand towards the Divine, who looked around in a panic.

“Someone help me!” she cried.

Then the doors behind them burst open, and Autumn ran into the picture. She stopped dead, the her from the past taking in the scene before her with wild eyes. Autumn could almost recognize the moment. She had been running from the guards after a brief altercation with an overly handsy nobleman. She didn't remember going through the doors, though, and didn't remember any of the vision before them.

“Shit...” she heard herself say in the image, looking between the two figures. “What's going on here?”

“Run while you can, warn someone!” the Divine begged of her. The Autumn in the vision took a hesitant step back.

“We have an intruder. Kill her.” the dark being ordered. Autumn met her own eyes for a moment, sheer terror registering there before there was another flash and the entire vision was gone.

Before anybody had any time to react, the crystal before them shattered, ripping itself open to form what was now the familiar shimmering surface of a rift. The massive figure of a demon leaped out at them, and the world around her dissolved into chaos.

Everyone reacted at once, weapons flashing in the green light as they assumed their battle positions. Autumn was exhausted, but as soon as the adrenaline hit her it was like all her aches and pains melted away, leaving only the surge of the battle cry on her lips as she darted around the pride demon's feet to tear into his flank with her blades. Lightning cracked through the air as it summoned massive whips of plasma, dropping them into the midst of the soldiers trying to take the beast down. She heard screams from those unlucky enough to be caught by the lashes, but she blocked them out. She blocked out the smell of roasting flesh and overheated armor. She let her mind narrow, focusing on the task at hand. She could not save them by watching them die. Her only course of action was to take this thing down, take down this breach, and maybe then they would all be granted a moment of peace.

Even if it was a peace she didn’t believe she would get to be a part of.

She felt the magic in the air pulling at the palm of her hand, the mark vibrating with the energy. It was almost as if the rift called to her, begging her muscles to hold the hand aloft and do something with it, daring her to try her best. She dashed away from the demon, creating a small area of space, and obeyed the will of the mark. She held out her hand, facing the breach, and a beam of energy shot out like before. This was different than it had been the other times, however. She could tell that she could not close the gap, not yet, but she felt power surge forth from her. It burned, her flesh feeling like it was melting off of her arm, but she held fast, a cry of determination splitting her lips. The connection severed with a massive blast of energy that left the people in the crater unscathed but knocked the pride demon flat on its back, sapping it of its strength and magic in one go.

The soldiers and her party needed no urging to press their advantage, and before the beast could recover a mass of screaming people was upon it, weapons finding weaknesses in its armored flesh. It screeched, a guttural noise that shook the ground, but after it quieted it did not rise again. She could see its flesh dissolving as the life exited its form, the energy it used to materialize returning back through the veil. She spun away from the scene and shoved her palm at the breach again.

It was trying to pull her in, trying to resist being sealed. She grabbed the arm with her free hand, trying to hold on. She felt herself being tugged forward, sliding through the ash. She braced her feet, trying to plant them firmly in place even as she lost her footing, even as she screamed with the burning agony in her hand. She thought she felt someone wrap their arms around her waist, pulling her back, holding onto her. She was vaguely aware of Solas yelling something in her ear, but it was lost in the roar of magic flowing through her body, alien and foreign to one who had never been a mage.

Enough, she thought, and Autumn yanked down as hard as she could. She felt things in her body shatter, but the energy followed her down, obeying her will with a thunderous roar as its final rebellion. She knew nothing else after that, as she lost consciousness and welcomed the deep blackness that overtook her.

***

Solas cradled her in his arms as she went limp, her connection with the breach dissipating with a blast of mana being poured into the air, shooting up through the sky in a shower of brilliance. He had no doubt the effect would be seen for miles around.

Autumn was completely unconscious now, and he could feel broken bones within her body grinding together as he set her on the ground as gently as he could. It took only a moment before the others had surrounded them while Solas attempted to examine her. He held his hands over her and willed the magic to tell him where her injuries were, coaxing the power from across the veil in a process that felt strange and familiar. Her heartbeat was weak, a small flutter he felt pass through him, the wings of a butterfly held trapped in his hands. Her breathing was shallow, her face missing all of its prior color, a pale shadow of what she had been moments before. He watched her glow flicker and threaten to go out, dimming as the candle wick sputters against the wind. He frowned at the tremor of fear that spiked through his chest, redoubling his focus on the magic and ignoring the strange echoes of everything else.

“Shit, Chuckles, is she...?” Varric did not finish the question, the admittance too much to utter aloud. Solas furrowed his brows and ignored him, the prone figure before him occupying all of his attention.

She had shattered almost all the bones in the arm with the mark, and the veins underneath the skin seemed to have burns as though the blood had boiled. The lung on the left side of her body had collapsed, the air shuddering in and out of her chest as she struggled to breathe. He reached into the fade and pulled forth more power, feeling it flow through him and into her, willing her injuries to heal. It took an excessive amount of energy, more than he actually had to give after the battle they had just fought, but he grit his teeth and continued.

Afterward he fell to the side, panting heavily as sweat beaded against his spine. Cassandra rushed to his aid, propping him up with her strong hands on his elbow.

“Solas?” she was both inquiring about himself and Autumn, with one simple intonation of his name.

“She will live, but she was gravely injured. Give her a potion before you move her, then I would suggest we take her back to Haven to recover.” He rose to his feet on shaking legs, looking down at Autumn as she slumbered. He felt like he was haunted by her, somehow, as though interacting with her had fundamentally changed him. The feeling unsettled him, and suddenly he needed to be anywhere else but there. He took up his staff and used it to lean on, walking away and leaving her well-being in the hands of the others for now. He refused to look back, and he could not decide if it was pride or fear that motivated that.

***

Cullen gripped the limp form of the prisoner – Autumn, he corrected himself – to his chest, as though he carried the most precious cargo in the world. The color had come back to her cheeks since the potion, and he was relieved to note her breathing was deep and even now, no longer strained as it had been when she had fallen. He had panicked when he saw her fall, a deep and primal sense of fear pulsing through him that he could not rightly explain. He didn't even know if he wanted to explain it. He was certainly too tired to work things out in his head right now. He had to get her back, get himself back, so they could all breathe for a moment.

She stirred briefly against his chest, her eyes fluttering open just a fraction.

“Don't...” her voice was barely audible, weak and breathy, and he could see it was a struggle for her to say anything. He gripped her closer instinctively, leaning his ear down to hear her better.

A weak hand reached up and grasped the fur around his neck, pulling at him desperately. She was still trying to speak, her eyes wavering between open and closed as she fought to get her message out.

“You are safe, my lady.” he offered, unsure of what ailed her

“Don't let them...don't let them send me home.” she managed to string those words together before falling back into the void of unconsciousness.

Once again, Cullen found himself caught completely off guard by something that came out of her mouth. Why would she wish to avoid home? Who would take her? He wanted to brush it off as the rantings of one trapped in some nightmare, but knowing all too well how some nightmares were based in reality, he could not help but worry at her mumbled pleading.

Leliana would know something. He would have to ask her as soon as the opportunity presented itself. For now, he cradled her closer and tried to impart a sense of safety while he had her in his arms. He wasn't sure how much good it would do, but he did take heart when at one point she seemed to sigh and curl closer to him, a look of ease on her delicate features. Seeing her resting against him filled him with a warmth he didn't expect, one he spent the rest of the way back to Haven trying to ignore.

 


	4. Hold on to that Sense of Humor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Autumn gets a pet and Cullen's smirk is unfair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because that damn smirk, man, that damn smirk

Somewhere on the vague edges of her consciousness, Autumn heard the door to her room open and someone enter, a gust of cold air following them inside before they clicked the opening shut again. Quiet footfalls carried the visitor to the side of her bed, where they stopped, and she could feel eyes staring down at her. She opened her own, blinking the sleep from her eyes as Solas slowly swam into view above her. He looked surprised to see her as he leaned against his staff, which she found odd since he was the one that had crept into her room.

“You are awake.” His voice was flat as he spoke.

She sat up, feeling her muscles pull and stretch, working out their stiffness as she did so. “So I am.”

She looked around the room, taking the small cabin in. It was dark, as there were no candles lit, but she could make out the warped wooden walls and shabby furniture through the gloom. She was in a soft bed, and next to that was a nightstand. There were two windows, both covered with tattered red curtains to keep out the cold. A stained blue rug was tossed on the floor, upon which rested her boots and leathers, which made her acutely aware of the fact that she was in nothing but an undershirt beneath the covers.

She cleared her throat. “So, would you care to explain why your traipsing into my room unannounced while I’m sleeping?”

He had the courtesy to wince at the statement, frowning. “My apologies. I had grown used to checking you while you slept, it did not occur to me that you could wake and be uncomfortable by my presence.”

“Right, that makes it sound much better.” She adjusted the pillows behind her back, and was surprised when he smiled.

“I believe I owe you another apology, if I were to guess at your tone.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he shook his head, forestalling her. “I believe our first introduction was poorly handled. I wanted to apologize if any of my actions that day made your experience harder than it need be.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Like shoving my arm at a rift without consulting me?”

“Yes, precisely that.” He laughed, and she found that she enjoyed the sound, and moreover enjoyed being the cause of it.

“Thank you, for that, then. I suppose it was a bit of a trial for everyone.” She furrowed her brow. “You said ‘that day’, which kind of sounds like you’re implying it wasn’t yesterday. How long have I been out?”

“Three days.”

She sat up straighter. “ _Three?_ Balls, that’s a long nap. Then, did I do it? Is it closed?” she couldn’t keep the strain out of her voice, memories of the searing pain lingering at the back of her mind so that she wanted to beg him to tell her she would never have to do it again.

“Yes..and no, but there is time yet to discuss that later. You have stopped the pressing danger.” His voice was a calm body of water, hardly a ripple of anything in it, but she could swear she heard a hint of sorrow. “I am pleased to see you awake so soon, in fact.” She could tell from the way he spoke that the breach was not sealed, that her work was not done. She would not yet get to slip back out into the night, to run from this and make her escape into the Ferelden hillsides as she had been planning all along. The mark was like a chain wrapped around her wrist, anchoring her to a cause that she had never signed up for. Yet there was little she could do about it. She would not abandon them if she was their only chance at fixing things.

She lifted her hand and looked at the mark in her palm, shimmering and green casting a subtle glow across their faces. “That bad, huh?”

He shuffled his feet. “The breach has stopped growing, and so has the mark.” His answer explained nothing, but she let the avoidance slip past them. She already knew that the answer was that yes, it was that bad. She had been there, after all. “May I inquire as to your pain?”

“Better, surprisingly. It still aches, but the burning has stopped.” She flexed the hand, clenching her fist around the mark and submerging them in darkness once more. “Solas, you seem…wise. Do you know what it is?”

She looked up and met his gaze, and he looked back at her for a very long time, his face a mask of indiscernible emotion. When he finally spoke, he seemed to choose his words carefully. “It is magic related to that of the breach, both of them out of control from whatever their original intent was.”

“Well, that’s lovely. So my hand is a magical experiement gone wrong, and also I only _kind_ _of_ succeeded in closing the hole in the sky. Have any more wonderful news to share?” she flopped backwards on her pillows, sending out a gust of air that stirred his robes where he stood.

He chuckled, his smile meeting his eyes. “Seeker Cassandra has named herself your defender, and has forbidden anyone from any further arrest or prosecution attempts, if that is any consolation.”

“Actually, it is.” She laughed, imagining Cassandra shouting down Roderick to defend her tenuous honor. “Thank you, for the news. And for, you know, checking on me in my sleep, I guess.”

He bowed, smiling and gracious. “It is no trouble. Truly, I am pleased that you are well. As well as could be expected, at any rate.”

She sighed. “So, I suppose my next question is when will we be trying to seal the breach for good?”

He gave her a sideways glance, furrowing his brow even as a smile played across his lips. “You are full of surprises, Autumn Trevelyan.” Instead of answering her question he stood, bowed, and left the room as quietly as he had come. She was mystified by that reaction, but she felt that whatever she had done, it had been something that he approved of.

She would definitely have to get to know the solemn man better.

***

Cullen watched Leliana stride gracefully into the war room, shutting the door behind her. She had an oddly bemused expression on her face as she regarded himself and Josephine.

“We will not be having the meeting today.” her voice was full of amusement that he rarely heard from her these days. She was a vastly different woman than the one he had met in the circle tower all those years ago, but every now and then he caught flashes of the same softhearted, kind person who had handed him water while he ranted like a lunatic.

“Is everything well? I thought the Lady Trevelyan had recovered?” Josephine's dainty features screwed up in a worried frown, obviously put off at the idea of placing the day’s business on hold again. Still, she held her posture aloft and her tone remained concerned yet polite, because the Ambassador had more dignity in her pinky finger than all of Orlais had in its over-bloated capital.

“She is quite well.” Leliana suppressed a giggle. “She has found herself otherwise occupied for the day, and Cassandra has assured me she will not be dissuaded from her task.”

“What exactly are you hinting at, Lady Nightingale?” Cullen had a deep sense of foreboding filling him.

“I think it would be...more satisfying if you find out for yourself, Commander.” and with that comment and another smirk she swept back out of the room. Cullen and Josephine shared a meaningful glance with one another before gathering their things and returning to their duties.

Cullen couldn't say he was completely disappointed to avoid having a meeting. The damn things tended to draw themselves out for hours, the leaders arguing amongst themselves over the best course of action on even the most mundane of tasks, rarely coming to an accord. He had been curious to meet with the Lady Trevelyan once more, or the Herald of Andraste, as she was now being called, but he certainly had enough work to keep himself occupied. He couldn't fathom what the woman had found more important than meeting with them, especially after she had already agreed to help, according to Cassandra, but he wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to find out after the reaction they had gotten from the spymaster.

Carrying his stack of papers, he returned to his tent out near the training field, tossing them haphazardly onto the makeshift desk within. He had what felt like a thousand reports to look over, but the headache forming between his eyes told him that reading would not be the most productive use of his time for the moment, so he would instead opt to focus on the training of the recruits, ensuring their instruction was being properly seen to. He strode into the center of the practice yard, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword as he watched the men train.

He was at this task for some hours, barking out orders for corrections and the occasional compliment, even sparring a couple of times for good measure. Every now and again he could swear he would catch sight of a shock of red hair out of the corner of his eye, but by the time he could turn to look there was nothing there. The whispers and wide eyes of some of the men told him that the Herald was flitting about the camp doing something, but Cullen never seemed to see her himself. It wasn't until the sun was setting and lavender darkness was starting to creep down from the mountains that he finally saw her, and indeed it would certainly have been hard to miss, as every soul in the front of Haven seemed to stop what they were doing to stare.

Autumn Trevelyan strolled down the side of the mountain, wind whipping her curls about her head, cheeks rosy from the cold and exertion, with a giant, smug grin plastered to her face. Over her shoulder she held a long branch, at the end of which she had tied an apple dangling from a string. Following said apple was a very eager druffalo, who was pulling a large pallet that appeared to contain various skins and meats from game in the hills, lumber from Maker only knew where, bushels of elfroot, and a plentiful stack of iron ore. She led the one woman, one beast procession down through the hills and straight to Harrit's forge, where she approached the blacksmith and started a conversation with him Cullen couldn’t hear. They spoke for a moment before the man gave her a look of pure adoration, shaking her hand so fervently that Cullen suspected her arm must hurt. Harrit barked a few orders over his shoulder to the smith hands, and they hastily untied the pallet from the animal's back Autumn led the beast to the stable area – currently unoccupied, due to their lack of horses - and penned the perfectly happy thing in before finally tossing it the apple. Then she swiped her hands together, dusting them off, and walked into the gates of Haven, out of his sight.

It was the first time Cullen could say he truly, without a doubt, understood why people thought she was a savior sent by Andraste. Cullen stared after the spot she had last been long after those around him had returned to work, unable to move his eyes from the spot, unable to truly process the amalgam of emotions running through his head. Suddenly, the reason Leliana had been so amused as to her whereabouts that day made all the sense in the world. Shaking his head, Cullen finally retired for the evening, his own heart lighter, just a little, from the antics of Lady Trevelyan.

***

_Commander,_

_I am sorely tempted to deny you the information you requested, for I feel you would be better served asking the lady yourself, but I feel as spymaster I do owe you some degree of knowledge. You are the Commander of our forces, after all. _

_Autumn Trevelyan is the oldest daughter of the primary branch of the Trevelyan family. She grew up expected to become the heir to the estate, while her younger brother was set to be inducted into the Templar order. My sources say that at some point there was some kind of falling out between her and her father, and she was renounced as the heir, although not entirely banished from the family. She apparently lived for several years as somewhat of a mild troublemaker, lawbreaking and mischief, but nothing ever serious. The relationship grew increasingly strained over the years, until at some point people stopped seeing much of her outside of the estate, rumors alleging that Arthur Trevelyan was keeping her locked away, to keep her out of trouble while he tried to find a suitor to marry her off. I do not know why she was at the conclave, but I trust she will tell us when she is ready._

_I hope this satisfies your curiosity, Commander. In the future, I will request that you take any inquiries that aren't in regards to the security of the Inquisition directly to Autumn._

_-Leliana_

Cullen set down the letter, wishing now that he hadn't asked Leliana to get the information at all. The first sentence of the missive flooded him with guilt, because of course she was right, and he should have just asked the Herald himself. Worse was the fact that none of the information actually answered his question, at least not to his satisfaction. He had encountered plenty of people with strained relationships with their families, but none of them had ever begged not to be sent home while mostly unconscious. As far as he knew that was fairly peculiar behavior.

Now he found himself faced with the unpleasant option of actually asking her about it, or the equally unpleasant idea of just letting it go. He had been thinking it over for the past hour or so while he poured over reports, occasionally picking up the missive to read over it again, and after all his deliberation he still couldn't decide which option he liked the least. The idea of bringing up what she had said to him made his stomach lurch, and he didn't entirely trust himself to be subtle enough to get the information without asking point blank. On the other hand, he felt almost like it was his duty to find out, if nothing else than to protect her from whatever she seemed to fear so deeply. It was his responsibility as her Commander, wasn't it?

Sighing heavily, he got up and walked outside of his tent, stretching his arms over his head and standing at his full height, feeling the tension ease out of his muscles with the action. Glancing at the sky, he could see it was nearly time for the war council meeting, one that he was assured would actually happen today. Tilting his head to the side, he popped the bones in his neck before shaking out his limbs and heading off in the direction of the chantry. With any luck this would not take very long, and he could actually try to eat something soon. Perhaps doing so would help clear his head. Maker, he could only hope.

***

When Autumn arrived at the front of the chantry Cassandra was already there, waiting for her. The stern woman gave her the most cursory of smiles before she was leading her down the long building towards the war room, apparently not inclined to an overabundance of words in her greetings.

“Well, hello to you too.” Autumn mumbled, feeling put off by the reaction. Cassandra gave her a wry smile, but didn't bother to respond.

Absently, Autumn started to rub her left hand through her glove, trying to stop the odd cramping that seemed to be a frequent occurrence since the initial sealing of the breach. Solas had not been wrong; stopping the breach as they did had eased the pain, but she couldn't say it was as good as new. The mark was like an ever present part of her now, a piece of herself that she was hyper aware of at all times. Even when it wasn't cramping like an overworked muscle, it seemed to just... _feel_ more than other parts of her. It was a strange sensation, one that she didn't think she would ever get used to. She had taken to wearing gloves over her hands constantly to cover the thing up, as hiding it made it seem at least a little more out of her mind. Nothing seemed to quite fix the problem, though.

“Does it disturb you?” Cassandra asked softly, startling Autumn out of her depressing stupor.

“Oh, not as much as Varric's chest hair.” she grinned salaciously, and she was rewarded with an honest burst of laughter from the Seeker.

“Hold on to that sense of humor.” light was dancing in her grey eyes, with just a hint of laughter in her dark gaze.

“You will undoubtedly regret telling me that.” Autumn replied primly. They reached the door, and Cassandra held it open for her.

Her humor was immediately quieted when confronted with the daunting sight of the leaders of the Inquisition staring at her across the table. All three of them seemed to stand up straighter when she entered the room, and Autumn had a strong urge to turn right around and just _run,_ until she couldn't bear to run anymore, to take herself as far away from here and this moment as she possibly could. Instead she squared her shoulders and tried to put a pleasant smile on her face, hopefully looking strong enough to justify the position that she had been slapped into.

“Herald, allow me to introduce you to Lady Josephine, our ambassador.” Cassandra said, and Josephine gave her a gracious bow.

“I am so pleased we could finally meet. I had heard about your...hold up yesterday, and I apologize that I could not come to greet you sooner.” the woman flashed Autumn a dazzling smile.

“Oh, shit...I am so sorry about yesterday everyone!” Autumn blurted, realizing that she had never explained anything to them. “Harrit said our troops didn't have weapons and Flissa was complaining about rations and Threnn was...well, I won't talk about her because I'm hoping I never have to talk about her again. She is very unpleasant. Anyways, I wanted to set some of those problems to rights, they seemed pretty urgent and I just...I hope you all were not too offended by my delay.” She finished, embarrassed at how badly she had just stumbled through that tirade. In truth, she had never intended to have her entire day devoted to the tasks, but once she had started she had poured all her focus into them. It wasn't until she had seen the sun setting that she had realized that she had blown the entire day and missed the war council. She had practically fallen at Cassandra's feet in gratitude when she found out the Seeker had already canceled the meeting on her behalf when she saw that she was busy.

“I am fairly certain we should be _thanking_ you, not forgiving you. Especially after that scene yesterday evening.” Leliana told her, blue eyes dancing in a look that Autumn recognized well, the kind of look only a rogue with a taunt on their tongue can have.

Autumn looked at her warily. “I don't remember making a scene...”

Cullen snorted, causing her eyes to dart towards him. He tried to cover his laugh with a gloved hand before she could see, turning it into a brisk cough. He failed miserably.

“Really? The word is you led a savage druffalo over the hill, the sun itself welcoming you home as Andraste's chosen while you brought food enough to feed all of Haven and save us from the brink of starvation.” Cassandra said, her dry tone belying her amusement.

Autumn slapped a hand on her forehead, looking at the faces of each of the grinning people before her. “Really? _That_ made me look holy? How are there not, like, a thousand Heralds running around by now, if that’s all it takes to impress people?”

“It was quite the vision, if I say so myself. Although the druffalo was hardly savage, and I personally would have mentioned your hair being lit up like the fire of the Maker, if I were the one telling the tale.” Cullen gave her a devilish smirk. The damn man was teasing her, and Autumn decided that the scar on his upper lip made that damn smile just plain _unfair_. She narrowed her eyes at him. Autumn worked her mouth open and closed silently for a moment, trying and failing to come up with a retort of some kind. She was thankfully saved by Leliana breaking the inarticulate standoff.

“Come, let us get down to business before our fair Herald decides to start another round of benevolent deeds.”

Autumn mouthed a silent thank you to the spymaster once everyone turned their eyes to reports and maps, who nodded in acceptance.

“You already know Leliana, our intelligence officer, and Commander Cullen, leader of our troops, which takes care of the last of our introductions.” Cassandra added, and Autumn gave polite nods to both of them, although she narrowed her eyes again at Cullen because he was still smirking, and it was so utterly distracting that she had half a mind to tell him to stop, considering it a personal affront that he was giving her that look. Her glare only seemed to make his smirk deepen, however. She made a mental note to find a way to get the man back, and soon.

The meeting went into full swing at that point, with Cassandra prompting all three of them to start laying down a vast pile of information at her feet. Solas wanted them to recruit the mages to power up the mark to seal the breach properly this time, which Leliana and Cassandra seemed to agree with. Cullen wanted to approach the Templars instead, arguing that they could suppress the breach rather than power the mark. Josephine very unhelpfully pointed out that neither group was speaking to them yet, and they needed to have more political sway before they could try to get anyone's help to do anything. She also advised that the Chantry had denounced them all as heretics, specifically Autumn, who was being regarded as the Herald of Andraste by the people now without the consent of those with big hats who fancied themselves in charge of such things.

“Just how, exactly, am I the Herald of Andraste?” Autumn asked, rubbing at her temple, trying to forestall the headache that title was starting to give her. She knew they were calling her that, but no one had really bothered to tell her why, and she could certainly see no reason whatsoever on her own.

“People say when you fell out of the rift there was a woman behind you. They extrapolate that this woman must have been Andraste, sending you to save us all.” Cassandra provided helpfully.

Autumn stared at her feet for a moment, more uncomfortable with that title than any name she had ever been called before, which was a very long list of colorful names. “Well, I can't say I blame the chantry. I would denounce me too.” she shrugged, feeling helpless and ineffective at whatever role it was that they wanted her to play.

“Let's be honest with ourselves, the chantry would have condemned us no matter what we said.” Cullen's tone betrayed his annoyance with the religious organization. “Chancellor Roderick made sure of that.”

“The guy who looked like an angry pomegranate?” Autumn asked, the insult out of her mouth before her brain had time to censor it. Josephine let out a small gasp of horror, but Cullen, Leliana, and Cassandra all took one look at each other and started into fits of laughter. Leliana was laughing so hard that she had to grip the edge of the table as she doubled over, wheezing for air.

Cullen wiped a tear of mirth away from the corner of his eye. “Oh, my lady, I owe you a drink for that. I will never be able to look at that man the same way again. It will make bearing the brunt of his complaints so much more manageable.”

Autumn grinned widely at him. “All in a day's work.” she preened.

After the laughter died down, Autumn addressed them all again. “So, if we can't approach the mages or templars yet, which means we can't seal the breach, what exactly should I be doing?”

“There is something you can help with. There is a Revered Mother in the Hinterlands who has asked to speak with you. Go to her, find out what she wants, and perhaps we can get the chantry to be less hostile towards us.” Leliana handed her a slip of paper, a letter from the woman, one Mother Giselle, that was indeed asking to speak to her personally.

“While you are there, make sure to look for more ways we might be able to spread our influence. Soldiers, talented people, or simply people willing to sing the Inquisition's praises would all be equally beneficial at this stage.” Cullen told her. “Oh, and I also wanted you to speak with Master Dennet while you are down there. He is the finest horse-master I know of, and our operation is currently missing any kind of mounts...bar one friendly druffalo.” Cullen smirked at her again as he handed her a slip of paper with information about the horse-master. She resisted the urge to jump across the table and trace her fingers across that blasted scar. She regarded all of them for a moment with a sense of resignation.

“I am not getting out of this Herald business, am I?” her brow creased as the burden of her new responsibilities settled across her shoulders. She was not particularly surprised when she got four simultaneous denials. Maker preserve her, she had really gotten in it deep this time.

 


	5. Druffalo Whisperer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which literally everything is ridiculous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter used to be a couple of chapters, now combined into one.

 

 

_Sister,_

_Why didn't anyone warn me about the angry people that are fucking EVERYWHERE here? You owe the adorable dwarf in the scouting armor a drink for keeping me in the know. Make that one drink per freckle._

_Consider everyone's temper tantrums over._

_The Mother sends her regards, she is bringing you some special love - in person._

_There was a man with a horse who had me kill some wolves. It's a very demanding horse._

_There are a lot of druffalo here, could we take them instead?_

_If I don't stop hearing fucking howling in the next three days, I swear I'll jump back in the fade._

_The Author says I should sign this “the Druffalo Whisperer”. If Curly smirks at this, hit him in the face._

 

Leliana couldn't breathe, she was laughing so hard. Cullen, walking into the war room to see her in such a state, wasn't sure if he should even ask what was so funny. Wordlessly, she handed him the missive, and he only had to glance at the haphazard script before he knew it was from Autumn.

“It's beautiful. A coded dream.” Leliana swiped a tear from the corner of her eye, one hand resting on her ribs as she tried to regain her composure.

Cullen raised an eyebrow at her and gestured to the page still in his fingers. “I can see the code in most of it...the Mother must be Giselle, the man with a horse is obviously Dennet, but who are the angry people?”

“The rebel mages and templars, I would assume. She must have neutralized them. This is the best missive I think I have ever received, and we don't even have to worry about whether or not it was copied or seen by the wrong people. Nobody but us would be able to make sense of it. She's a genius.” Leliana beamed with pride. “She even let us know when she would be coming home without actually stating it: three days from now.”

“My, my, you actually sound impressed.” Cullen smirked, and she reached out her hand and lightly slapped him on the face. He gave her a baffled look, wondering if all that mirth had driven her insane.

“She said if you smirked that I was to hit you.” Her laughter broke free of her composure again.

“Worth it.” he grinned as wide as his lips could stretch. Shaking his head, he left Leliana to return to his duties, never quite dropping the smile that her letter had left him with.

Struck with a sudden urge, he marched at a brisk pace back to his tent, throwing open the flaps and letting cold air filter in behind him. He stood over his desk and pulled out a piece of blank parchment, tugging a quill from the tin can he kept them in and dragging it through a pot of ink.

_My dearest Druffalo Whisperer,_

_Thank you for sending your regards, the Sister was only too happy to oblige in your unorthodox request._

_If you bring any druffalo back with you, you had better be riding them._

_I shall tend to your faithful friend already in the stables. I am sure he will be glad to know his lady is returning with his kin._

_Sincerely,_

_the Smirking Man_

Sealing the letter, he raced to the rookery before he lost his nerve and he tied the message to a bird. He thrust his hands into the air, letting the raven alight on the frigid wind and pump its wings until it was aloft above him, a flurry of dark feathers drifting down in its wake. He wished he could see the look on her face when she received it, which would be later this evening with any luck. Cullen let a sense of deep satisfaction settle over him, and having accomplished his little task resumed his duties with vigor, a slight bounce in his step that perhaps had not been there before.

***

Autumn made a noise that sounded like the rude call of a frustrated fenec fox being accosted by a parrot, causing the others in the camp to look up at her with a rather justified amount of concern on their faces. She folded the letter, that still smelled faintly of smugness and armor, and tucked it into one of her pockets. She was careful to keep it out of sight from everyone's now prying eyes, her cheeks heating with irritation as much as embarrassment. _“The Smirking Man”,_ she fumed. The gall of that man! And he was practically _daring_ her to ride a druffalo home.

She got up from her place near the fire and stalked off into the night, ignoring the looks she got from the others.

“I think she might be snapping under the pressure...” Varric’s voice was the last thing she heard, glancing past her head before she was out of earshot.

She would show Cullen what happened when you issued Autumn Trevelyan a challenge!

***

Leliana burst into the war room, breathless and flushed. His immediate reaction was alarm, tightening the muscles along his arms as his hand moved to the sword strapped to his waist. He was worried to see the normally composed woman looking so hurried, but he relaxed when he saw the all too familiar glitter in her eyes.

“You need to come see this.” she took his elbow and all but dragged him out of the war room. After a few steps he found himself jogging after her darting path of his own accord, towards the front of the village.

When they cleared the gates, Cullen burst into laughter that filled the air with the steam of his breath. _Maker, she’d actually done it!_

Riding into camp astride a perturbed and ruffled druffalo was their Lady Herald. Her traveling companions looked disgruntled, apparently disliking the situation as much as the poor beast she rode. He could only imagine the patience it would have taken to actually _ride_ the thing all the way back. Druffalo were not keen on having people on their backsides, and had a tendency to stop often and throw the occupant off. Even if she had only rode it as they came in sight of the town, leading it would not have been any more pleasant, as the great beasts dawdled rather than moved.

Autumn saw him at the gates, and he saw her back straighten. Even from here, he could see the triumphant look on her face shining beneath her sunlit curls.

“Oh, I owe Cassandra an apology, I think. I never thought she would actually do it!” he held his side where it had cramped from his laughter. Maker, he had not laughed this hard in years.

Leliana giggled next to him.“What could you possibly have done to cause _this?”_

“I may have sent her a message telling her that if she brought anymore druffalo back she had better be riding them.” he watched her reaction out of the corner of his eyes. She laughed harder, doubling over, her shoulders shaking with the effort to keep herself quiet.

The party finally reached them, and Autumn dismounted her noble steed. She waltzed up to Cullen, hands on her hips as she stared him down - despite her considerable lack of height - with a rigid smile on her lips. “Commander, I understand you felt jealous of my lovely druffalo, so I took the liberty of getting you your own.”

The other three who had been traveling with her glared daggers at him. Solas looked as though he had been slobbered on by the thing more than a few times, and Varric had a tuft of encrusted hair sticking straight into the air that could only have been from one thing. The sight of it was enough to send Leliana into another fit of giggles.

“My lady, you honor me beyond words.” he bowed deeply and smirked, which he took so much more pleasure in now that he knew she was definitely noticing them. Rising, he walked forward and gave the druffalo an affectionate pat, which elicited a disgusted noise from Cassandra before she stalked off.

“His name is Scar.” Autumn whispered in his ear, making him shiver. He hadn’t realized she had gotten so close to him while he had been absorbed in Cassandra’s exit. He glanced down at her and saw the fire in her eyes, and suddenly Cullen felt like the ground had been pulled from beneath his feet.

Stepping away, and taking all the warmth in his blood with her, Autumn laughed heartily and walked into Haven, giving him a wave as she went.

***

_Sister,_

_We have achieved Maximum horse._

_The adorable freckled scout will let you know how long it takes to ride them all at once._

_The man with a horse seems to be smitten with me, I think he is following me home._

_I heard there was a city that sold tiny cakes, I think I will pay it a visit._

_Tell mother I appreciate it, and I won't delay._

_According to the Author, I am Giggles this week, and I will cut whoever calls me that with a rusty blade._

_**_

_Sister,_

_This city is awful! No one warned me that the food tastes of despair, what the fuck._

_There were more angry people here, no one told me about them, either. Why is everyone so angry all the time?_

_The tantrums continue, everyone stormed off to their rooms._

_Your hidden friends probably have more details, but can I just say: fuck the armored guys? Tell Curly I don’t mean him._

_I made some new friends, they really want to meet you. I’m bringing them back to the party with me, set out some extra chairs. Probably really far away from each other._

_Don't let Curly ride the horses. I am appointing him my official Druffalo handler until further notice._

_The name of the week is The Angry One, apparently. I’m not opposed to this._

_**_

_Sister,_

_I found a new friend who says he has a thing for redheads. Maybe he could show you the letters he gets from home, I think it will be good for the two of you._

_Also, I think I accidentally became the leader of a gang here, so don't be alarmed if you start getting reports from them. They are very loyal. Have I mentioned my life is fucking weird?_

_Make sure Curly is feeding Scar and Whisper. My Druffalo need the affections only he can provide._

_The Seeker said it rains every day of the week here, but I told her it has to stop on Tuesdays, surely. Nobody likes rain on Tuesdays._

_Sincerely,_

_Anybody that calls me Soggypants should expect a dagger to the throat._

***

Autumn was more exhausted than she thought to be physically possible when she finally stumbled into Haven, heading straight for her cabin in the hopes of a blissful night of sleep before someone demanded she go gallivanting off to somewhere else. She felt like she had been halfway across the world in the past several weeks. First she finished up the tasks Master Dennet wanted in exchange for the horses, doing such an upstanding job that the man insisted on personally caring for the Inquisition's mounts when she was done. Then she had gotten word that there were people waiting to meet with her in Val Royeaux, so they had left directly from the Hinterlands towards the city. After returning from _that_ disaster, she had only a brief few hours back in Haven overnight before they were sent off to meet with Iron Bull on the storm coast and recruit the Bull’s Chargers. When all was said and done, she had found countless resources for Threnn to slobber over, five new recruits for her own personal teams, throngs of people insisting to join the Inquisition, and tenuous but useful opportunities to speak with both the mages and the templars.

She knew she was going to be setting out very soon to meet with one of the unruly factions, but right now she couldn’t give a nug's ass. The only thing she wanted to do was take off all her clothes, crawl into bed, and sleep deeply enough that she could pretend she was dead for at least a couple of hours. Everything else could wait until morning.

***

“Ladies and gentleman, your illustrious Herald has arrived!” Autumn cried, with no small degree of sarcasm, as she burst into the room. Cullen watched, amused, as all of them perked up at her entrance. She could say what she would about her lack of qualifiers for being the Herald of Andraste, but the woman certainly knew how to lift morale, if nothing else. Of course, Cullen knew her to be quite capable besides that. She had practically stabilized the Hinterlands single handed. Not to mention she had somehow brought out the carefree side of Leliana that nobody had seen since her days traveling with the Hero of Ferelden, a miracle in and of itself. The missives she sent back while she was on the road provided all of the advisors with endless amounts of mirth. She had quite the way with words. No matter what she thought, Cullen was more and more pleased that it was her that they were working with in this ordeal, and not someone else.

“A pleasure to see you back in Haven, my lady. Would you like the reports I have compiled with regards to the health of Scar and Whisper now, or later?” Cullen inquired politely, unable to resist teasing her.

“Certainly right away, Commander. I was beside myself with worry during my absence.” she drawled, holding out her hand for the reports she clearly doubted that he had.

Cullen, however, had been fully prepared for this, and had gone the extra step to actually write a small note about the druffalo every day that she had been gone. This had resulted in a small stack of papers that he was nearly giddy to hand to her. Her eyes widened when he slapped the sheets in her hand, and she glanced down at them, skimming some of the notes before looking up at him, thoroughly amused.

“You bastard, you actually took care of them and took notes!” she was incredulous. Cullen could not have been more satisfied with himself, and he let it show in the smug smirk that slid across his face. She scowled at him, which did nothing to diminish the laughter in her eyes, like emerald fire.

Cassandra cleared her throat, breaking the moment succinctly. “If you two are finished? I believe there are actual issues we need to attend to.”

The arguments began not long after. Cullen watched as Autumn paid close attention to each of them, listening intently to their reasoning for who was better to approach, mages or templars. After a couple hours of heated debate with no real progress or clear answer unfolding before them, Autumn had clearly had enough.

“Alright, alright. I think I have all the information I can stomach about the issue.” She looked pale as she spoke, an unhealthy pallor to her skin that made him furrow his brow as he watched her. “Can we all agree to take a break and decide this tomorrow?” her tone was even, but he could hear the irritation in her voice.

“Of course, lady Herald. We shall reconvene at your convenience.” Josephine gathered up her things and flounced out of the room, possibly the only one of them who would be satisfied no matter which side they chose. Cullen would have liked to say something else, to talk to Autumn more about his reasoning and sway her towards the templars, but she spun on her heel and left the room, making a beeline towards the training area.

Cullen gathered his things as fast as he could to follow her.

***

“You look like you could benefit by blowing off some steam.” Bull rumbled at her, startling her out of her bitter thoughts.

He was not wrong. Listening to the advisors bicker for two hours straight had her nerves utterly frayed, made worse by the fact that she couldn't tell which answer was the right one. Personally she leaned towards the mages. She had never been able to trust templars since the ones that had hung around her brother had behaved so repugnantly. Andrew Trevelyan was an ass, so it wasn't actually a surprise that his friends would be just as bad, but for the longest time it had been the only templars that she had ever known, and that colored her opinion of the order in a way that wasn’t easy to forget. She knew they weren't the only ones of their ilk. If they had been, the mage uprising never would have happened in the first place.

“I can't blow off steam. I would disappear. I am steam, I am literally made of steam right now, and I think I might explode.” she spoke to Bull without actually looking at him, staring at a point somewhere on the horizon far, far away. Her left hand ached and her palms were mired in sweat.

“I'd say you just need to hit something.” Bull offered. Yes, hit something. Hitting something sounded amazing. “Care to spar, Herald?”

“Only if you swear to never call me Herald again.” she smiled at him, to take the sting from the words.

He placed a hand on the small of her back, his fingers as broad as the width of her spine. “Tell you what,” he grinned as he guided them towards the practice ring, “you win, I promise to call you whatever you want.” he was practically purring at her, and she could tell he was going to enjoy this match. This was a man that loved to fight, and she was an opponent he had never faced before. A new toy for him to test out.

“And if, Maker forbid, I lose?”

“I get to call you whatever I want, Soggypants.”

She growled at him, a visceral reaction within her at the horrendous nickname that Varric had tested on the Storm Coast. “You. Are. _Over_.” she grabbed her practice blades from the rack beside the rickety fence surrounding the training grounds, and he hefted a massive ax, dulled for this very purpose. She turned and lofted herself over the wooden gate to the yard, rather than walking through it, landing on the balls of her feet and raising a brow at Bull, a silent challenge. He chuckled and for a moment looked like he might try the trick himself before coming to his senses and simply walking through the door. She took a deep breath, feeling the ice from the mountain air fill her lungs, and the anticipation of the fight filled her nerves with fire. They both took up defensive stances as they faced each other, and then started circling each other with calculated paces.

Bull tilted his chin down at her, and when he smiled it was predatory. “Bring it, short stuff.”

***

Cullen arrived at the training area on the trail of the Herald only to see a crowd of people surrounding one of the sparring rings. He couldn't see much around clamor, other than the large horns of the Qunari that had returned from the coast with Autumn earlier that week. Cullen began pushing his way through the press of people so he could get a better look. Most of the soldiers moved out of his way as soon as they realized who he was. One of the advantages to being the Commander.

When he finally took in the scene, Cullen watched enraptured as Autumn and Bull circled each other. Bull looked positively hungry as he watched her, his eyes seeming to take in her every movement, while Autumn just looked enraged. Her face was different than it normally was, he noticed. She looked focused, fierce, the expression in her eyes unmistakably deadly. She moved with slow fluidity, but Cullen could see every muscle in her body tense and ready to react at the slightest notice. She was, he saw for the first time, a fighting machine, geared for death when the moment called for it.

They circled for a moment more, eyes locked on one another, before Bull became restless with the test of wills. He took a quick step forward, swinging the huge ax towards her midsection. There wasn't a lot of force behind it, as it was meant as a probing attack more than anything else. She rolled to the side with minimal effort, carrying herself harmlessly beneath the widest arc of the blow. She was on her feet again in a heartbeat, continuing her slow circle around the massive man before her.

A hush passed over the crowd as the match continued in this way for several more repetitions. Bull would take a swing, Autumn would dance out of the way, both of them testing out the others abilities through harmless push and pull. Finally, after what felt like ages, Autumn made an offensive move, leaping gracefully towards the grey mass of muscle that she faced. He was ready, and took a swing at her, but she saw it coming and jumped over it, landing a hefty hit to his midsection before rolling away again. The crowd went wild, cheering for their Herald as she grinned maliciously at the a now irritated Iron Bull. He growled at her and lunged forward, moving faster than Cullen would have thought possible, given his size. She had proven herself agile and nimble thus far, but this time she wasn't fast enough, wasn't anticipating the low arc of the ax, and he caught her just below the knee as she tried to dodge in the wrong direction. The force of the impact sent her tumbling onto the ground, a sickening crack emanating from her ankle. Bull was on her again like lightning, bringing his ax straight down in a swing that carried deadly force. She rolled to the side just in time, the dulled weapon smacking into the muddy ground and sending chunks of soil careening into the air around it.

She managed to scramble away and get to her feet, covered in mud and sweat. She tried to put weight on her foot and stumbled, gritting her teeth in a grimace of pain. She corrected her stance and resorted to standing primarily on the other leg. Cullen was sure the match would be called at that point, with Bull clearly taking the win. Autumn stood her ground, however, and did not call for aid as she stared her opponent down. Cullen placed his hand on a fencepost, ready to leap into the ring, but before he could enforce common sense and intervene Bull was already charging ahead again, towards the injured rogue.

The swing of his ax, bolstered by his mad dash, had enough force to whistle through the air as it sailed towards her middle. The crowd gasped, as one, when she made absolutely no move to dodge it. Cullen was frozen in horror as he watched what was sure to be a devastating, possibly lethal, blow.

The hit landed, but instead of bracing herself against it Autumn seemed to swing with it, tossing herself backwards at the last second. As the ax hit her it carried her up, and while it was still in motion she used the momentum to swing herself around to Bull's back, flying up into the air and away from the weapon. In one fluid motion she used the pull of gravity to spin herself around and grabbed onto his horns, smashing into his shoulders and causing him to stumble to the ground. Within seconds her practice blade was held to his throat as she hung from his horns, her knees on either side of his head.

For a full minute the only sound in the courtyard was the heavy breathing of the sparring partners. Then a steady clapping burst into the silence, growing as others started joining in, and before long everyone was screaming in excitement, congratulating the Herald on her victory.

Autumn climbed off of Bull, extending a hand out to him to help him up, a ludicrous gesture considering her smaller stature and current one legged stance. Bull clambered up off the ground on his own and took the proffered hand once he was standing, shaking it with just enough vigor to make her wince as she swayed and tilted the damaged ankle. The pair grinned at each other, laughing, before they each took a bow towards one another. Then Bull grabbed Autumn's hand and held it aloft, presenting her to the crowd as the victor, which lost itself in revelry.

“So, what do I call you then?” Cullen heard Bull ask her beneath the din.

“I believe my name is Autumn, so that should do.” she told him, positively glowing.

Cullen wasn't sure he had ever seen anyone look more beautiful in his entire life. Once again, covered in mud and battle weary, Autumn Trevelyan had struck him speechless.

“Close your mouth, Curly.” Varric’s amusement was unmistakable below him as the dwarf chuckled to himself.

“I don't think I can.” Cullen muttered, unable to care about whatever expression he had on his face for the moment.

Varric shook his head. “You are in trouble.”

“Yes, yes I am.” was all Cullen could think of in reply.

***

Autumn walked out of the ring as steadily as she could on her battered ankle, working her way through the excited crowd to make her way over to the basin of water kept on hand for the often sweaty troops that practiced their trade nearby. Taking the small pitcher next to it she dipped it, filled it, and then proceeded to unceremoniously dump the entire thing on her head. She gasped as the cold water washed over her overheated skin, draining the adrenaline of battle from her system. That spar had been an excellent idea. She did, in fact, feel much better and far more clear headed, enabling her to make a decision on what she wanted to do for their next step towards closing the breach. She would go and see what the mages had to offer, as they seemed the least hostile. Then she would return and they could decide who to officially ask for help.

She only hoped Cullen would accept the decision without hating her for it.

She hadn't had hardly any time to talk to him in person, but she regarded him as a friend nonetheless. Maybe it was the the smirk, or maybe it was the way he managed to meet her jest for jest, but she found herself wishing she could be in his company more often. Far, far more often than was appropriate, if she were honest with herself. Luckily she wasn't planning on being that honest with herself, and fully intended to continue behaving the way she had regardless of any consequences her conscience might come up with if she thought too hard about it. Ignorance was bliss.

As if summoned by her very thoughts, Cullen was striding over to her from across the yard as she was wringing out her armor. She was surprised to note the look of anger suffused on his face.

“Sit.” he demanded of her as soon as he was close enough to have his low, commanding tone be heard. He pointed to the stool next to the basin, the gesture as much an order as the single syllable that he had ground out a moment before.

“What -”

“Sit. Now.” his face was flushed, his eyes glaring at her. “Please.” he added after a moment, a small sigh escaping his chest. She wanted to rebel, if for no other reason than she disliked being commanded, but something in his eyes and his plea made her comply, falling onto the stool and watching him with trepidation. Wordlessly, he knelt down in front of her and took her foot in his hands. She hissed at the movement, the pain of the possibly broken limb racing up her legs as he tried to bend it. He glanced up at her, that damn smirk back, and she found herself relieved to have the angry look of command washed from his face.

“As I suspected, it's broken. What were you thinking?” he tilted her foot again, testing the extent of her damage with careful movements so as not to further jostle the bones.

“I didn't do it on purpose! I don’t break bones for fun, you know.”

“No, I mean why continue the match after? You should have stopped it when you got hurt. You could have permanently damaged it.” he was still smirking at her, but his tone was concerned, his brow furrowed above the bridge of his nose. For the first time she noticed just how penetrating his gaze could be, his eyes pools of golden honey she found herself wanting to slowly sink into.

“Honestly, I didn't realize it was broken until you tried to move it, so thanks for that.” she was going for a jest, but her voice was too soft by half. She cursed those eyes and that smirk. This man would be her undoing.

He sighed heavily. “Come on, we need to get you to the healer before you find some other way to cripple yourself.” he stood up, leaned down, and took her arm, pulling her up so that she could shift her weight onto his shoulder while they walked into the village.

“I didn’t cripple _myself_.” she sniffed, finding the idea distasteful. “If you didn't notice, Bull was the one doing all the crippling back there.”

He laughed. “Right, and I'm sure you did everything you could to avoid the sparring match.” A soft eyebrow arching up on his head, the stubble on his jaw shifting as he smiled, that scar moving as he spoke. Autumn was too close to him and she couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Maker every time she took in a breath she could smell him, like campfires, armor oil, and sun warmed leather.

“Well...” she tried to find words, find a sentence or even a garbled selection of grunts, but her mind was simply blank.

“I am going to take your silence as a personal victory.” Smirk. Damn him and that smirk.

They walked the rest of the way in companionable silence. Once there, the healer gave her a once over and determined that not only was her ankle nearly shattered but a rib had cracked, which she had not noticed amidst her other concerns. He had her down a potion before scurrying off to fetch Solas, who could mend the rest of her issues. Autumn became painfully aware that she was alone in a room with Cullen now, who was leaning against the wall, that lopsided grin of his trying to kill her.

Autumn was struck with the urge to explain her decision now, before she had to talk about it to everyone, and so apropos of nothing she felt the word vomit bubble out from between her lips. “Listen, I am going to explain this once, so try to keep your smirking to yourself for a minute and just hear me out, okay?” His posture stiffened and he nodded, looking slightly more grim than he had a moment before. “I know you want me to seek out the templars to help with the breach, but I don't think I can do that. You've heard a lot of reasons for that already from Leliana and Cassandra, so I won't list them all here, but I wanted to tell you in person what my own reasons are, because I think you deserve to hear them.” she took a bracing breath, plowing on bravely despite the frown on his face, which might have actually been worse than the smirk. “My brother was supposed to go into the templars, did you know? He was all set to join up, already had plenty of friends in the order before...well, that's a story for another time. My point is, I knew a lot of templars, and they weren't...they weren't good people, Cullen. They were cruel, both to those who had magic and those who sympathized with them. I know not everybody in the order is like that, truly I do, but I have seen so much corruption that I think the whole thing should be abolished, replaced, started again, or _something._ Especially after seeing one of them just punch a chantry sister in the middle of the market. I know you used to be a Templar, which is proof that there are still good people that might be in the order, but at the end of the day I still can't bring myself to support them. Not right now, not like this.” she finished with a sigh, looking up at him, trying to read the reaction on his face. He looked torn, and it made a ball of lead form in the pit of her stomach and drag her spirits to the ground as his silence grew louder with each agonizing second.

Finally he knelt down in front of her so that his face was level with hers. He took her hand, running his fingers over her knuckles for a moment. “I...appreciate you telling me this. You make excellent points, a lot of points I had made to myself before, when I decided to leave the order. I can't honestly say I agree that this makes the mages the right choice, but I understand and respect your decision.”

For a minute Autumn couldn't breath as she looked into his eyes. He was so close, with his hand on hers, if she just leaned forward a little bit she could -

The door burst open, Solas striding in with quiet grace. Cullen snapped his hand back and stood up, looking rather sheepish as the mage's gaze flickered between the two of them.

“Commander, I think I will have the situation under control. You may return to your duties, if you so wish.” Solas’ tone made the statement sound more like an order than a suggestion, though the distinction seemed to be lost on Cullen, who nodded at them both and left the room. Once he was gone Solas turned to her, and if she didn't know better she would have thought he looked slightly smug.

 


	6. This was a Terrible, Terrible Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Varric writes a letter, Redcliffe gets very interesting, and Faren swears at birds.

_Hey,_

_Not gonna lie, this shit is even weirder than the shit we used to get into. Then again it doesn't get much weirder than a hole in the sky, does it? I hope not, in any case. Please don’t take that as a challenge._

_I hope things are going well with you two. I got a letter from Broody the other day asking about you. I passed word on as discreetly as I could. He says Rivaini is driving him up the wall trying to renovate the ship, but he's doing well otherwise. Apparently they picked up some templar runaway in Seere, ditching her dad’s estate. She’s like candy to Rivaini, who has corrupted her about as quickly as she could manage. She even inserted a pretty graphic picture of their exploits in the middle of the last letter, and I think she wrote down something about a delicious “rebellion sandwich”. Needless to say, I’ve got enough raunchy material now to write a whole other serial about pirate romance._

_I told Broody that he should come join our little operation here in the middle of freezing fucking nowhere, since he was always the best at hitting things. You should encourage him to do it. I think it will be good to get him out of her cabin for awhile. Although I might have mentioned that everything here smells like horse ass, so maybe you can sell it better than I did._

_There's a guy here that knows more about the fade than all the mages I have ever met combined. I can't say you'd like him, per se, but I bet you'd like his knowledge. I will try to see if he knows anything you don't already, if I can ever get him talking. He has conversation skills, when he feels like it, but he feels like it about as often as the sky is full of holes. Who knows, maybe those two events will increase together and he’ll give some big speech as the world ends. Correlation or some shit. Actually he reminds me a lot of how Broody was in the beginning. Maybe all we need is to let this Herald drag him into a bunch of trouble. Seemed to work for us before._

_As for Curly, since I'm sure you want to know, I would say he is holding up about as well as can be expected. He may have quit the order but I'm not sure if his heart is fully out of it yet. Poor guy seems a little more exhausted each day. There is one bright spot, though. You will not believe me when I tell you, and I am tempted not to just because I know you will call me a liar, but Curly seems to have a sweetheart._

_I won't tell you who yet, I don't want to spoil the surprise. It is good, though. I don't think I could have written a more perfect pairing if I tried. I'm gonna have loads of new writing material when this is all said and done. Templar runaway pirate porn notwithstanding._

_Give Blondie my love. And for the love of sweet Andraste's knicker weasels, DO NOT GO INTO THE HOLE IN THE SKY. I am aware it’s shiny, but stay away._

_Your favorite Dwarf,_

_V._

_P.S. Could you tell Daisy to stop feeding the crows so many treats? The damn things are getting too fat to be fast and we don't want Lady Nightingale finding one of them and blowing our whole pen-pal operation. Maybe Daisy will listen to you, she certainly doesn't listen to me._

***

The tavern in Redcliffe was filled with hazy smoke that tickled Autumn's eyes and nose. It carried a heavy scent, not unpleasant but a little too strong, giving her a slight headache. She could see no source for it, and in fact no one in the room seemed to be smoking, but it drifted in lazy curls through the dim air nonetheless. Maybe it has something to do with the plethora of mages packed into the bar, or maybe it was something the bar did for their benefit. She wrinkled her nose as she stared at the faces of the people within, all of them pointed at their drinks as they attempted to wash away the day with ale. Which was exactly what Autumn intended to do for herself, and it was much needed after the day that they had been subjected to.

The road to Redcliffe had been filled with bandits, demons, and rifts that had spawned and spat out as much virulent energy as they did virulent spirits, as well as somehow altering time in a subtle way they hadn't been able to puzzle out just yet. The Bandits tried to rob them and the demons tried to kill her, because of course they did. The energy from the rifts nettled like bee stings all over the skin wherever it came in contact. And there was nothing as surreal as running at a demon full speed only to find that she had stumbled into one of the strange time pockets, her footsteps swinging in awkwardly slow arcs as she was descended upon by the creatures smart enough to stay outside of the bubble. Needless to say, when they arrived at the town they were sore, tired, and in desperate need of a stiff drink. So, they had filed into the tavern before trying to do anything else, wordlessly agreeing that all official business could wait at least and hour or so. There had been no sign of Fiona or anyone else in charge, which suited her just fine for the time being, since she doubted she would have the patience for a negotiation at the moment.

Autumn had brought Bull, Solas, and Varric with her, opting to leave the less...magically open minded of her friends back in Haven. She didn't need Sera offending anyone with an offhand comment that would probably be inappropriate for all ages, and Cassandra was just as likely to spurn a mage as accept them, based on criteria that was still mystifying to Autumn. Vivienne, despite being a mage herself, was somewhat of a nightmare when it came to the issue, insisting vehemently that the mages all return to the circle, an opinion Autumn did not necessarily share, so she was certainly out. Blackwall probably would not have caused any problems but she found herself avoiding his company whenever possible. Something about the way he looked at her made her uneasy, and while she couldn't place the cause, she certainly avoided him because of it.

Walking in, Solas immediately wandered to a back corner of the room and secured a table, while Bull walked to the front of the bar to order them drinks. Varric took a moment to help her limp to the back table, and once there helped her remove her torn leather sleeve, caked in blood and an unfortunate looking ooze coming from a place on her shoulder where a particularly strong bolt of energy from the rift had hit her directly. The skin was an angry red color, and there were blisters forming in the middle of the patch, along with a gaping hole where her skin had been burned away. She sucked in her breath as the pain of removing the tattered hide hit her, and the open air stung the injury.

Varric whistled slowly, admiring her battle wound. “Yikes, remind me not to get near those things if we see them again.”

Solas glanced at them, and with a simple wave administered a blast of cool, relieving magic. Autumn sighed with contentment as her skin calmed and her pain eased, the blisters and wound disappearing. “Solas, never forget that I love you.” She flashed him a grateful smile.

“Duly noted.” he smiled in return, only a slight hint of mirth reaching his eyes. Stoic though he may be, Autumn had grown fond of the pensive mage, and his knowledge was often indispensable. He could never be said to be the life of the party, but she was always glad to have him around, in battle and out. She found his presence bracing in a world that was constantly churning out chaos. He did seem to enjoy her company, as well, or as much as he enjoyed anyone's. While he never joked around or drank with them, he was always content to accompany them wherever they went when they were outside of Haven. She got the impression he enjoyed watching them cavort around like fools, he just didn't participate himself. Which was fine with her, so long as he was happy.

Bull returned with their beverages and the men began to drink while Autumn examined her ankle. She had fallen pretty hard when she had gotten zapped with the weird energy beam in the fight, and she had felt the sprain taking hold of the muscles for the last three hours in their trek towards the tavern. A bright bruise was spreading around the offending limb, almost pretty with its purple and blue patterns. She would live, however, and decided it wasn't worth wasting a potion on, nor bothering Solas with it. He probably had little energy left after the day's exertions anyhow. Mages had power, Solas probably more than most, but it was not unlimited.

She set her foot down on the ground gingerly and took a long sip of her drink. The ale was light and tasted of fruit, with a hint of exotic spices lingering in the back of her throat. Mages knew how to drink, she decided, appreciating the warmth that was filling her stomach. The group was drinking in silence this evening, needing only the close quarters of their companions to relax and recuperate. They were just too exhausted to do much else.

“I do hate to interrupt such a _lively_ round of conversation, but I really must insist you come with me. I have an urgent matter we must discuss.” an airy voice dispelled their reverie, and Autumn glanced at the newcomer. He was a tall man wearing an expensive looking set of white silk robes, ridiculously embellished with silver lace. A long, black staff was strapped to his back, with a cluster of bright crystals shining at her from the tip that was peering over his shoulder. He sharp, keen eyes, deeply tanned skin, and smooth dark hair arranged carefully atop his well groomed head, just visible underneath his hood. He grinned at them, his perfectly white teeth flashing and his manicured facial hair, an impressive mustache and tiny goatee, shining in the light. He was a very...pretty man, Autumn thought.

“Are you in charge of the rebel mages?” she asked bitterly, wondering without much hope if this whole affair might turn out to be easier than she thought.

“If I said yes, would you come immediately?” his voice lowered, an urgent tone of warning creeping in over the affable apathy. Autumn regarded him, debating for a fraction of a second before she nodded and stood up quickly, gesturing for the others to follow. She didn't know what was going on, but something about the meaning hiding in his eyes made her believe that he really did have important information for her. She had to go on gut instinct often in this exciting new line of work she found herself in, and had learned a few things about reading her own intuition. The way this man spoke made her realize the air of menace she hadn't noticed before, and she had a hunch it was not coming from him. Besides, she reasoned, nothing that shiny was ever _that_ evil.

He led them out through a side door of the tavern and from there down a long path into a small grove that looked like it was a garden for religious reflection, with a statue of Andraste in the middle surrounded by white marble benches and thick, tall hedges. It was a struggle for her to keep up with the man's brisk pace as she tried to avoid putting her full weight on her ankle, eventually giving up and resolving to wince with every step. She was grateful when they finally stopped and she could collapse on a bench, tilting her foot so that the pressure was relieved. It was the same ankle she had damaged sparring, and she was beginning to think it was bad luck.

“That was much easier than I thought it would be.” The man stopped short and turned around to regard her thoughtfully, pulling back his hood so she could see him clearly. He seemed to sparkle in the moonlight, his bronzed skin taking on the aspect of actual bronze.

“Careful, Autumn. You can't trust the pretty ones.” Bull regarded their new shiny friend with outright suspicious, a curl of disgust on his upper lip.

The man wriggled his mustache and rolled his eyes. “Don't worry, you wouldn't be the first.” then he turned his attention back to her. “Listen, I know you have no reason to trust me, but I came to warn you. You’re in _incredible_ danger.”

“That's sort of my thing.” she crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Who are you, exactly?”

“Dorian Pavus, of _Tevinter_ , at your service.” he bowed deeply with a flourish of his arms while shooting Bull a scathing glance, making Autumn understand the normally genial mercenary’s sudden malice. “Forgive my abruptness, but I had to get you out of there.”

“Because...?” Varric gestured with one hand thrown in a rolling motion, indicating that Dorian should continue. His other hand rested calmly against the trigger of Bianca.

“Because a cult would like to see your head on a platter, preferably after having it removed from the rest of you.” The worry in his eyes seemed sincere. “Look, you might know about them or perhaps not, but there is a cult from Tevinter calling themselves the Venatori, and they are _very_ invested in getting to you. So invested that they have set up a lovely trap for you here in Redcliffe.”

“I’ve not heard mention of the Venatori previously. What do you know of them?” Solas’ voice was overtaken with curiosity, while Autumn was merely concerned they had found something the elven scholar didn’t already know about.

Dorian glanced at the mage. “Well, I know _of_ them. Now. Look, this is all very complicated...how shall I explain?”

“Try quickly.” Bull snapped, his hand reaching for his battleaxe. Autumn held up her fist to forestall him.

“It's alright, I want to hear him out. Dorian, was it?” she nodded politely, giving him an easygoing smile. He seemed to relax at this, and cleared his throat.

“Glad to see _some_ people in the Inquisition have manners. Where was I? Yes, evil cults.” he smiled at her and clapped his hands together, punctuating the start of his explanation with a soft _whumpf._ “My former patron, Alexius, seems to be embroiled in some kind of plot to take down the Inquisition. More specifically, _you,_ and whatever role you have taken up with them. I can't be sure exactly what he's planning, but I know it can't be particularly benevolent. You noticed the strangeness of the rifts in the area, yes? How they seemed to alter time in some way?” his face darkened as he explained, clearly unhappy with the things he had discovered. “I’m familiar with this magic. Familiar enough to know that there can be no other cause for the anomalies other than my previous benefactor. Alexius is using dangerous magic, magic that could tear apart the very fabric of time if he is allowed to continue on this madman’s farce. He must be stopped. At _any_ cost.”

“So you think these Venatori are responsible for the rifts? What about the breach?” she asked, wondering just who this cult was. They didn't sound particularly friendly, in any case.

“I would bet that if they weren’t the cause, they are at the very least cause adjacent. I got concerned for my old friend, despite our current standing being on less-than-friendly terms, and I went to see him only to realize he was...gone. As though without a trace. I did some detective work, calling in a few favors from people, and was able to scrape together a trail that allowed me to track him all the way out here.” He glanced around the glen as though the trees were somehow less civilized than those found in the Imperium. “I have been trying to monitor him and the situation ever since. You won't like what I found out.” he gave her a smirk before disgust swallowed the expression once more. “Alexius is apparently here to not only recruit the mages, but to specifically keep _you_ from recruiting them, and set up a trap to get you killed when you try.”

“Oh. Well. Now I feel bad I didn't even get him anything.” Autumn shrugged. She wasn't surprised in the least that this was all going south before it even began. Things had been steadily headed in that direction for her since she woke up in that cell, and they certainly weren't about to get better now.

Dorian let out a hearty laugh. “Yes, well, it's not like there is a socially acceptable gift for 'thanks for trying so hard to kill me'. Perhaps a fruit basket?”

Autumn giggled. She was starting to like this flamboyant mage. “I think I'd reserve that for the person trying to _save_ me.”

Dorian winked. “I’m fond of grapes.”

“Why her though? What could she have done to piss off a creepy, magic worshiping cult?” Varric scratched his chin thoughtfully, a thin layer of orange stubble pulling through his usually barren face.

“No idea. Perhaps they are threatened by the mark, perhaps they _did_ pop a hole in the sky and don’t care for her ability to close it. The only thing I really know is that they are bad news.” he grinned mischievously at Autumn, “And I could hardly let them harm such an exquisite creature as yourself now, could I?” He held his arm out to her politely. “Come, let us scheme and plan a counter plot which Alexius will never see coming.”

She took his arm graciously, deciding that she _definitely_ liked this man. “Why Ser Pavus, I thought you'd never asked.”

***

_Sister,_

_Complications. Apparently this party will be longer than we expected._

_Have you ever tried Tevinter Wine? I hear it's complexity can catch you off guard. They have some, in the Redcliffe castle. I made a friend who might let me try it. Or at least smash a few bottles._

_If I get drunk and pass out, send Scar to come get me._

_I'll be sure to tell you if any other guests arrive._

_The Author says I am officially Hummingbird now, and it doesn't fill me with a blind rage so I'll keep it._

 

_This_ was not what he had signed up for.

Granted, Faren hadn’t signed on with the Inquisition for any more enhanced reasons than having something to occupy his mind beyond seething vengeance, but he could definitely say trying to plug a hole in the sky was not on the shortlist of things he had wanted to be doing with his life. It didn’t help matters that holes in the sky did not seem to be something that happened often, and it had sent everyone into a panic. Apparently the ceiling caving in wasn’t something the surface dwellers feared on a regular basis.

He uncoiled the ribbon from the raven’s foot, clasping the small roll of parchment that it released between his fingers. The bird snapped at his hand, cawing in frustration when it failed to rend his flesh, the red circles under its beady eyes making them seem to glow from the reflection. Faren thrust his arm into the air, shaking the hateful creature free so that it fluttered awkwardly back to a perch in the rafters above.

He glared at it from his vantage point lower on the ground. “Fucking flying feather-bag squirrels.”

He turned and stomped his way out into the snow, heading towards the chapel at the top of the hill where Leliana would no doubt be tutting at the Commander over some strategy or another while the ambassador took an ineffable amount of notes. They were _supposed_ to be plotting ways to end the conflict between the templars and the mages. _That_ had sounded like a nice, well meaning goal to pursue when the spymaster had approached him to be recruited in the first place. Instead, he found himself running messages back and forth while their entire operation sat on their hands, waiting for the Herald of whatever to come back from the Hinterlands with help, or news, or decisions that needed to be made. She was the doer in this operation, while he had somehow become a runner between a bunch of angry sacks of feathers and advisors whose bickering often resembled the sounds that came from the rookery. This was not the brave new world he had expected when he had stumbled out of Orzammar half dead and full of hate.

He pushed the doors of the chantry open, grunting as he threw his weight into it in order to get the massive hinges to move. The air inside was only marginally warmer than the air without, and he huddled deeper into his jacket, careful not to crush the delicate missive in the process. The ribbon tied around it was bright red, the color that the Herald chose to use so that they knew the message was from her. He was always pleased to be able to deliver her messages. Either they led to action, and he was conveniently close enough to be assigned to _do something_ since he had handed off the news, or they led to the spymaster being in good spirits, which led to a lot of positive things for the people working under her. Namely free drinks or afternoons off.

Today he was hoping for action. He was sick of waiting around, of scouting through the hills and finding nothing and no one but a fucking mountain’s worth of snow and some frisky nugs that seemed to infest the land everywhere he went. He wanted to be sent to gather intel, or sent to _fight._ He was ready to get his hands dirty in the name of their cause, whether that was putting the mages and templars to bed or sealing the Breach.

He found Leliana hunched over the war table, squinting at a collection of raven markers spread across the map. Her hood was pulled back and her auburn hair tilted across the sides of her face, gravity tugging at the single braid so that it pointed directly at the landmarks drawn on the parchment below. Her eyes flicked up at his entrance and then back down to the map, the single movement enough to acknowledge his presence and bid him speak. He recognized it for the command that it was, having been with the Inquisition since its fledgling days. Those that worked for her learned to read the subtle cues that she gave that served as orders. Those that didn’t ended up working somewhere else.

“Another from her, I take it?” she spoke without looking at him, reaching over and adjusting the position of one of the markers briefly before fitting it back into spot she had taken it from, shaking her head.

“Looks like it.” He placed the missive on the table in front of her and waited for her to read it. She untied the ribbon with a quick twist of deft fingertips and unwrapped the parchment in the same motion, her gaze scanning the contents in a heartbeat. Then she frowned and set the paper down. He saw her other hand, the one resting against the table, clench into a fist.

“Thank you, Faren. Please return to your duties in the rookery, and notify me of all incoming messages at once.”

He bowed, trying to bury his disappointment in his orange beard. No action, and no good mood. Whatever was in that note didn’t bode well for any of them. He turned and shuffled towards the door, dreading his return to the fucking birds.

“Faren?” her voice caught him just as he had turned through the door, and he spun and leaned back into the room, raising his eyebrows in a question. “Remain in the rookery for now, but I will be sending someone in to replace you before the afternoon is through. Harding is back, and I would like you to spend some time with her in preparation for your upcoming rotation change.”

He blinked at her, feeling lost. “Rotation change, ma’am?”

“I feel as though I’m wasting your talents as a messenger. I want to you as part of the ranging parties as soon as Harding has deemed you ready. _She’s_ been instrumental, and I would like to see if all dwarves can be taught to sneak properly. Perhaps then you will stop cursing at my birds.” She looked back down at the map, avoiding his gaze, but he caught the ghost of a smile that had fluttered across her lips.

He swallowed, and it seemed slightly harder to breathe than it had a moment before. _How did she know he swore at the birds? Did she miss_ anything _?_

“Thank you, ma’am. I will await your orders.” He bowed again, and this time scurried out of the room at a faster pace. He didn’t want to risk her changing her mind. Finally, he would get a chance to really _do_ something.

***

Once they had all the facts out of Dorian they were able to come up with a suitable plan. Bull and Varric were against it, because it used Autumn as bait and neither of them fully trusted Dorian yet, but they had failed to provide another alternative. This man - Alexius - wanted her captured or dead, and wanted to collect mages for his own ominous sounding cause. While they didn't know much about the mysterious Venatori, they could surmise enough to know they should be kept from amassing an army of potential magical firepower. They couldn't let that happen, and they certainly didn't have time to wait for backup to arrive from Haven.

Alexius knew that Autumn was looking for mages to help seal the breach. His plan seemed to be to get the mages sworn to him and use that as leverage to get her alone in order to negotiate their use for her purposes. Dorian was sure that he had planned to kill her during that meeting. Happily, Alexius had no idea that Dorian was in the area spying on him, or that he had tipped them off, so they would be able to get the drop on him if luck was on their side. Bull, Varric, and Solas would sneak in with Dorian and protect her from whatever trap he had set up, then they would capture Alexius and take him back to Haven for questioning, releasing the mages from their indenture in the process. Once free, they would hopefully agree to help the Inquisition set the world back in order when the organization offered protection from the templars with fewer strings attached...although Autumn knew that she would catch at least a little flack for offering the rebel mages that kind of freedom. She was not looking forward to that argument, and she could almost see Cullen's jaw working in agitation when he found out about it.

Thus far, Dorian's information had proven to be correct. Alexius had approached her after a few days and offered to strike a deal to let her “borrow” his mage power, and that if she would meet with him privately they could hammer out the details. They arranged a meeting place inside the Redcliffe castle, where Alexius had set himself up by foisting out the Arl that had been residing there before. Dorian had anticipated this, and had already found a way to sneak in without getting noticed through a servant's passage that was abandoned and unused. Once they were in, they would wait for Alexius to make a move, then attack and catch him off guard before he could do her, or anyone else, any harm.

It wasn't a perfect plan. Autumn knew she was taking no small risk, as any number of things could happen to her before her boys got to her. Worse still, something could happen to _them,_ and they might not reach her at all. But she couldn't walk out of there without getting the help from the mages. There were hundreds of them there, and she agreed with Dorian that leaving all that magical power to be misused by a cult trying to kill her was definitely out of the picture. It didn't sit well with her to leave the fate of so many in the hands of a man wanting to force them into servitude, either. So, they set up the meeting with Alexius and prayed to the Maker that they would be able to pull this off.

***

Dorian was regretting every part of this plan at the moment. The servant’s passage was dark, full of dust and mold, and the walls were covered with spiderwebs that still contained a fair bit of spiders. Dorian hated spiders.

To make matters worse, he had managed to get himself in a situation where he was crawling through this miserable pathway with two men who didn't entirely trust him (Varric was serviceable, but Bull was being openly hostile towards him), and one who seemed little more enthusiastic than a statue, only less inclined towards conversation.

Dorian regarded the Qunari in particular with distaste. Tevinter and the Qun had been at odds with each other for centuries. The Qunari seemed to think everyone in Tevinter was an evil mage sacrificing slaves in magic rituals, and Tevinter children were taught that the Qunari were savage monsters who sought the destruction of everything enlightened and civilized. Dorian knew at least half of that had to be utter bullshit, having learned from an early age that _most_ things taught to the people of his nation couldn’t be considered more than trite propaganda.

Dorian was beginning to believe some of the things about the Qunari must be true, however, as the frighteningly large man glared at him. Dorian had no idea what to say to ease the tension, and indeed _The_ Iron Bull - what a ridiculous name - didn't seem interested in a truce. He tried to tell himself that all the racism was still wrong, that he was just protecting his leader, that he shouldn't fear the man just because he looked frightful...but the hatred behind the man's single eye was hard to miss.

Varric was much less imposing, although he could tell the dwarf didn't trust him, either. Dorian had been surprised to see an author running around with the Inquisition. Though he had to admit that Varric's ability with the crossbow was uncanny, enough to justify his presence in a militant organization ten times over. They had done a bit of target practice while they had waited for Alexius to approach them. Dorian had launched shards of ice into the air for Varric to shoot down, and he never missed, not even once. Dorian had been thoroughly impressed. Varric had been pleasant with him after that, although still cautiously watching him, as though trying to make sure he didn't try to set them all on fire when their backs were turned.

Solas didn't seem to care one way or another. He let events unfold and only commented when Autumn asked him to. Dorian could tell the little woman trusted the mage implicitly, but for the life of him he could not understand why. She seemed like such a vivacious personality, and it was mystifying to see her attached to such a...well, a dead fish, as far a Dorian was concerned. There must be more to the mage than met the eye, he thought. Although he was thankful that at least where Solas was concerned there was no hostility. Dorian only wished Bull had been as relaxed. He felt as though Autumn was the only thing keeping the giant in check, a fact that left Dorian increasingly more nervous now that she was not with them.

There was a crawling sensation on the back of his neck, and Dorian resisted the urge to screech as he swatted at the offending spot, hoping desperately he was not going to find a nest of spiders in his knickers when this was all over. He saw Varric snicker at him quietly and felt his cheeks flush. This was a terrible, terrible plan.

Thankfully they were nearing the end of the passage, which opened out into the throne room. The chamber was incredibly dark, lit only by a few torches near where Alexius sat in the throne, which was such an outlandish and typical thing for the man to do Dorian had to roll his eyes at the image. He could not look more like a villainous cliche if he had tried. As they filed out quietly they could see that Autumn was already there, although they couldn't hear what was being said just yet, the sound being muffled by all the lavish carpeting draped on every inch of every surface in the room. _How very tacky,_ Dorian thought.

Solas saw the guards start casting the spell first, before the rest of the group, and cried out a warning, readying a spell of his own. Too slow. Dorian knew his casting wasn't going to be fast enough, and he sprinted towards Autumn, who seemed unaware of the danger behind her. _Here goes nothin_ g, he thought bitterly.

 


	7. This was Never Supposed to Happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Autumn has a no good, terrible, very bad time in the future.

As Autumn walked into the throne room that Alexius had summoned her to for their meeting, she felt heavy with doubt. Perhaps this was not such a good idea. Maybe they should have waited for backup after all. She wasn't sure how they would have managed to pull that off without tipping their hand or making matters worse, but walking in blind, not even sure if her message had reached Leliana, was a terrifying prospect. They could fail, and it could take the Inquisition weeks to discover their failure, and by then it could be too late to rectify it. The world could be swallowed by the hateful green clouds in the sky, and it would have been because she rushed in like a fool.

Her footfalls made no sound on the plush red carpet below her feet as she walked behind the masked guards leading her in. The room was enormous, and for some reason mostly bereft of torches, creating dark shadows all around her. There were some lit next to the throne where Alexius sat, and a few along the path that she walked, but the rest of the room was all but invisible, making it seem much larger than it actually was and leaving the twin rows of pillars on either side floating in an endless abyss. She hoped nothing unexpected lurked in those shadows. At least nothing more unexpected than the treachery she already knew was coming.

“Ah, we meet again, fabled Herald of Andraste.” Alexius bowed his head to her in a facade of respect. He oozed confidence, clearly thinking that he had already won, that his trap was closing on his unsuspecting prey.

“Thank you for seeing me, Magister Alexius.” she bowed politely, sweat starting to form in the palm of her hands. She hoped everyone was in position. This was really starting to feel like a very, very dreadful plan.

“So, from what I understand, you think you need the assistance of my mages.” his eyes shifted to the guards on either side of her, sending them some kind of signal. She tensed, wondering what was coming, wondering if the boys were in position yet, wondering if she had time to dive into the shadows if she needed to.

“Yes, ser. The Inquisition humbly requests your assistance in order to seal the breach in the sky before it causes more damage than it already has.” she tried to keep her voice steady and was proud that she sounded very respectful and self assured. At least she could play her part well.

“I regret to inform you this alliance won't be possible.” he sneered at her, and she felt the warm tingle of magic start spreading through the air behind her. _That was fast._

“Oh, I know, Alexius. It's just a shame I can't take no for an answer.” She reached for the daggers strapped to her back as she spoke. His eyes widened, and she saw him glance behind her at the guards. Whatever they were doing needed more time, and he clearly hadn't expected her to go straight for her weapons, anticipating some bluster or begging. She heard a familiar voice call out a warning to her and she started to leap out of the way when she was hit by something muscular and covered in silk, tackling her to the ground. She saw a bolt of _something_ fly out of the darkness towards whatever was happening behind her, and then everything became invisible as the world turned to bright blue fire. For a moment, everything was roaring and static, a maelstrom of magic rushing all around her. Then she felt herself land wetly in a pool of mire, hitting the ground hard. A cry of pain thrust its way out of her throat as she felt her hip bruise on impact, and she got a good lungful of water when she tried to replace the air that had tumbled out of her lungs. She sputtered, trying to sit up and look around, but she was hindered by whoever had tackled her, still flailing around on top of her. The figure rolled to the left and the pressure lifted from her chest, and she heard him begin coughing, sputtering, and mumbling curses.

“What the hell was _that_?” an indignant voice demanded. Dorian sat in the water next to her, drenched, disheveled, and looking completely beside himself.

She gagged roughly as she purged grainy water from her throat. She spat the foul flavored liquid out of her mouth, tasting the remnants of dirt, grime, and the acrid taste of lyrium burning against her tongue. “Don't ask me, I just got here.” she managed, trying to take stock of their surroundings.

They were in a small room that looked to be a dungeon of sorts. About a foot of standing water was on the floor, and the walls were crumbling and covered in mold and moss. Jutting out of the ground were eerie – and familiar - looking crystals, red on the outside with a faintly shimmering, swirling center. There was a door that led to a stairwell behind them, with bars that had once been used to keep in prisoners hanging off to the side, discarded. The stairs led up into darkness.

“I think...we were sent somewhere?” Dorian looked around, then got up and started examining the area, holding his hand out as though trying to sense where they were through the navigational power of his fingertips. “But where?”

“Clearly not a vacation home...” she started wringing out her leather armor as best she could. She could feel the slimy water against her skin, and it made her want to retch. “Wherever we are, we can't stay put. Where are the others?” she spun around, already knowing they weren't in the tiny room with them, but feeling like she should look anyhow.

“I can't say. They might not have been moved with us. We had just gotten through the passage when we saw those mages readying some spell behind you. Solas called out a warning and shot something at them, but I didn't think it would be in time so, being the obvious hero, I dove to shove you out of the way...I think we both got caught in whatever it was he meant for you.” He placed his chin in his hands, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Although perhaps Solas did something to the magic after all? Maybe this is not what was supposed to happen?”

“Excellent, more broken magic. I seem to find that a lot lately.” She stomped through the water to peer up the staircase. She could just make out a door at the top, but only darkness beyond.

“Yes, it would seem you are a regular beacon for it.” he laughed amiably, but then his eyes widened with shock as he noticed the crystals clinging to the stonework around them. He approached the red ore to inspect it. “Is that...lyrium?”

“Red lyrium...” she started to reach out her hand, her limbs moving without her bidding, and the echo of a song rumbling through her bones. If she could just touch it, then she could listen better, and hear what it was saying. Her fingers came within a hairs breadth of the crystal, close enough that she felt the tingle of the latent magic against her skin, and then she felt a painful sting in her mark. She drew back, clenching her fist to relieve the vicious cramping along the edges of the green hole in her palm.

“Well don't _touch_ it, for Andraste's sake. No wonder these things keep happening to you.” Dorian rolled his eyes at her before turning his gaze back to the lyrium. “It seems...corrupted somehow? Very strange.” he looked as though he was ready to hunker down and start examining the specimen immediately. Autumn was not inclined to let him.

“Come on, Pavus, lets see if we can find our way out of here.” she grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him up, marching him towards the stairs. He took a last glance at the lyrium and then followed of his own accord.

They reached the top of the stairs and cautiously entered a large room lit by a couple of torches on the far wall. The room was _filled_ with the dangerous looking lyrium, each uneven spire giving off a sickly pale light that flickered against the walls, casting shuddering shadows everywhere. The crystals were coming out of the ground, the walls, hanging down from the ceiling, they dominated her sight wherever she looked, drinking in the atmosphere until she felt she might choke from too much red.

Too late they spotted the two men guarding the door on the far side of the room. The startled guards drew their swords and started charging towards them.

“For the glory of Corypheus!” one of them cried as he jumped at Autumn with a deadly blow aimed at her head. She spun out of the way at an ungainly speed and drew her daggers from their holsters and flung them outward in a desperate arc, keeping him from following her stumble and buying herself precious time. She had only a second before the guard was on her again, however, slashing heavily with his longsword. She threw up her daggers, blocking his attack and pushing him backwards, sending him reeling for a moment with the force of the rebuttal. She pressed her advantage, leaping straight at him and driving her blades deeply into the base of his neck until she felt them strike the bones in his chest. The man gurgled sickly, coughing blood out through the mouth guard on his helmet and spattering Autumn across the face. He collapsed on the floor and she yanked her blades out, causing further gore to spurt into the air before tapering off as his heart ceased to beat. She turned to help Dorian only in time to catch the second guard shattering into a thousand pieces of visceral ice, dissolving onto the floor. He flourished his staff in the air and nodded, looking utterly satisfied with himself. She wiped the man's blood off her face with the sleeve of her jacket, feeling like it burned her skin slightly.

“Those were Venatori...” Dorian was examining the insignia on the man Autumn had dispatched.

“Maybe he sent us to their stronghold? Maybe we're supposed to be in a cell.” She shook her blades, trying to dislodge some of the blood to keep it from dripping all over her. Some of it hit Dorian's silk robes and he scowled at her.

“Watch it! Blood is impossible to wash out!” he rubbed at the offending stain, ridiculously concerned about blood on the already filthy, soaked robes.

“Focus, Dorian.” she rolled her eyes and smirked at him, and he rewarded her with a glare before returning his attention to examining the room.

“Wherever we are, this place feels...wrong, somehow. I don't know if it's this weird lyrium or something else, but it leaves one with the distinct impression we are not supposed to be here.”

“I think our new friends made that abundantly clear.” she kicked the dead guard halfheartedly.

“Indeed.” he sniffed with distaste. “Shall we keep looking for the rest of the party we so clearly weren’t invited to?”

“Lead the way, good ser.” she gestured with her arm, and they walked together to the other end of the room, peering through the opening of the second door. This one led into a hallway branching off into two directions, both equally dark and empty.

“Right or left?” she asked him, not seeing much difference either way.

“Lady's choice.” he replied, so she nodded and went to the right, picking it on a whim.

They reached the end of the hallway and it opened up into another group of jail cells, covered in rubble and discarded junk that proclaimed their disuse. There was more water all over the floor, although not as much as had been below, and the cells were all filled to the brim with red lyrium crystals. They heard movement from some of the cells at the far end, a scrape that sounded like the shifting of weight in an otherwise silent room. There were no guards in sight, but they moved forward conservatively, Autumn keeping her daggers at the ready should they find the source of the sound to be hostile.

When they got to the end, Autumn was shocked to see the cells contained not enemies, but friends. Hunched and miserable, Bull, Solas, and Varric huddled in tiny chambers, shuddering away from the vile red spears jutting out of the walls and encroaching on what little space they had been afforded in the prisons. .

Bull noticed them first, and his eye grew wide, a faint red shadow where the light of his laughter should be. He grabbed the bars of his cell hard enough that the metal groaned. “You....is that really you?!” His voice sounded odd, echoing inside of his chest before coming out of his throat. She noticed with horror that red lyrium seemed to be growing out of his skin, jagged chunks of evil consuming pieces of his flesh.

“Bull?!” She dropped her weapons and raced over to the bars, wrapping her fingers around his as they pressed into the metal. “Are you alright? What happened?”

“You...died.” His shock faded into distrust, but beneath the incredulity and the red glare she could see a sliver of hope, and she could see the raw and arduous pain that it caused him to have it. She couldn’t imagine what they had gone through to bring the jovial giant to such lows.

“She what?” Dorian’s jaw was hanging half an inch below his mustache while the others crowded against the bars of their own cells.

Varric coughed, looking even less trusting of her appearance than Bull. “We _saw_ you die, Hummingbird.” She turned her head towards him and saw that he too was infected with the dreadful lyrium, his voice tainted with the same haunting effect as Bull's. They were all suffering from whatever was causing it, red flecks glittering in their skin like scales.

“But I didn't...” she furrowed her brows, trying to piece together what was going on. “How did you guys get like this?” she turned to Bull, grasping his hands, which were cold and hard where they touched hers. His face looked drawn and worn, his green eye containing so much more pain than she had ever remembered seeing there before.

“After you died...” Solas began, paused thoughtfully, then continued, “or _appeared_ to have died, we were captured by Alexius. He used the mages power to bolster the forces of The Elder One, who used his cult to seize power.”

She gasped, trying to understand, trying to make sense of what she was seeing and hearing. “No, no, that's not possible! We were only down there for an hour, tops....” How could this much devastation have been caused in so little time?

“You've been dead for a year, Autumn.” Bull’s voice was low and sad, a cracked brass bell that couldn’t ring in the darkness. He wrapped his hands over hers, squeezing them gently. “Gone for so long...” he closed his eye and turned away, swallowing down the flood of sadness she could see just beneath the surface.

“Great Andraste's tits!” Dorian slapped his forehead forcefully, disrupting the moment. “He didn't send us _where_ , he sent us _when_!”

“WHAT?!” she let go of Bull and turned to the excited mage.

“Whatever that spell was supposed to do clearly didn't work, he didn't send us where he wanted, or didn't kill us. It seems as though we were blasted forward through time.”

“What?” she asked again, not capable of making any other words, her brain doing somersaults trying to think of the implications of what Dorian's words meant.

“It's like they said, we've been dead a year, right?” he asked, and the others nodded gravely. “But _we_ didn't experience it like that. We were instantly transported to where we were, or are, rather, so to us it's only been hours since our meeting with Alexius.”

“A year? What have we missed? What has happened because of what we missed?” Autumn was starting to panic. Her friends were imprisoned, sick, this Elder One had seized power and done who knows what in their absence. How was she going to be able to fix this?

“Our enemy was never just the breach, and he was more capable that I would have predicted. The Elder One, as he chooses to be called, used the chaos created in the aftermath of your death to his advantage. The Venatori dragged the mages to his clutches and he used them like so many tools to seize the world, taking power by force with them. He enslaved the armies of the templars through the use of corrupted lyrium and drove them to madness and war. He assassinated the empress of Orlais and stole her throne, invading the other nations from there with his militia of slaves, mages, and an army of demons dragged from the blood of the wardens.” Solas recited. “Since his brutal victory he has used whatever means at his disposal to expand the breach, parting the veil like a mere shade. He enslaves those who would stand in his way and imprisoned anyone who had ever come in contact with you. It seems you have remained a curiosity to him even after your...demise.” He said the last with such distaste that it caught her off guard. She was unused to being able to read his emotions so plainly, but as he looked at her with red stained eyes she saw too many of them. Sadness, anger, and something else that encompassed them both, something deeper and more frightening that she couldn’t put a name to but felt it reverberate within her all the same. It made her want to wipe away the whole world and start anew, to erase every trace of the mistake of her death, of her life, and let the threads that were left link themselves together to form something that had not been destroyed by her ruined fate.

“This can't be happening...” tears blurred her vision, though she tried to blink them away. She had failed everyone, after all. She had taken up this mark despite her fear and the pain, and then she had disappeared and left them all to a nightmare. She was a fool for ever thinking she could hold the responsibility of saving them.

“Wait!” Dorian placed a firm hand on her shoulder. “Do not dissolve into despair! You are forgetting, fair maiden: I _know_ this magic! I helped research this magic...we were never able to get it to work before, but maybe this cult showed him how. I...I think I can fix this.” she could see the thoughts churning in his mind, calculating things she knew she could not hope to comprehend.

Solas reached out through the bars, grabbing Dorian's sleeve with violent urgency. “You must! This was _never_ supposed to happen! You cannot let things remain like this! This cannot come to pass!” his voice was fierce, his expression sharp, fear and regret and hatred engulfing his features. She let the tempest wash over her, letting his insistence give her purpose, letting his regrets feed into her own. _This was never supposed to happen._

  
“Come on, we have to get to the same place we were moved from, so I can conjure the spell to send us back.” Dorian waved his hand, and the bars of the cells grew red hot, then white hot and melted away, leaving their companions free to step out of their containment. Bull scooped Autumn up in a giant embrace, while Varric managed to scout the room and find some waterlogged weapons abandoned in the wreckage to outfit everyone.

“Mage, you'd better be right about this. I am not prepared to lose her twice.” Bull snapped at Dorian, grabbing a huge war hammer that was only half consumed by rust. Dorian nodded at him, his expression determined.

“Get her home.” Solas said, his voice low and furious. His intensity was sustenance to her. It was so strange, so out of place, that she knew that it could fuel her beyond her limits. She would borrow his anger, and Bull’s determination, and Varric’s sad eyes, and she would carry it all through until she had fixed this. She would go back, and start this day over a thousand times if she had to, until she got it right. _This was never supposed to happen._

“I will.” Dorian replied, and then they were off to try and find the throne room in the ruins of the past.

The corridors were a maze, made even worse by the fact that half the castle was crumbling into the rising waters of Lake Calenhad, the landmark seeking to wipe the unsavory site off the map. Alexius did not seem to have devoted any time to preventing this. They wandered around as fast as they could without drawing too much attention, taking out groups of guards as they found them so no one could sound the alarm. Stealth required time, though, and it was not as fast a pace as any of them would have liked. The place was immense and full of all manner of creepy looking magical devices, corrupted lyrium jutting ominously out of the walls as though growing there. Entire passaged had been claimed by the murky water, and they were forced to double back and find a new path on more than one occasion. Many of the guards they encountered were mages, but some were people that were closer to zombies than living beings, infected thoroughly with the lyrium and mindlessly throwing themselves at the intruders like ammunition rather than soldiers.

They were racing down an empty corridor when Autumn heard a heart wrenching scream that made her stop short, nearly causing the others to barrel into her. Somewhere down the hall to the left someone she _knew_ was screaming. Before anyone had time to react, she raced towards the sound, her heart pounding violently against her chest, her mind silently begging to be wrong. She wanted to be wrong about who she had heard, wrong about who she was sure would be behind the rotted wooden door at the end of the hallway. She _needed_ to be wrong. She reached the end of the passage, and she could hear someone yelling from within, demanding answers about where “the pretender” was located. Their insistence was met with short gaps of silence followed by agonized cries of pain that made her heart stop cold in her chest.

She kicked in the door where the sound was coming from, splintering the wood. She felt her vision blur as she kicked again, this time destroying what was left of the shattered oak, sending it flying off the hinges.

Then she was greeted by everything she had never wanted to see.

Thick chains were wrapped around his waist and shoulders, and Cullen’s emaciated form hung limp and wasted from their bonds. His skin was scarred and bruised, yellowed where it wasn’t purple and putrid wherever there were wounds. There were filthy cotton rags draped across his body that might have once been clothes but were now ragged strips, and through the massive holes and gaps she could see that he was bleeding from fresh cuts all along his legs and arms. Two guards were holding a hot poker to the skin on his chest, and she could smell the hideous odor of roasting flesh waft out of the room, making her stomach roll. His hair was matted to his head and he had a scraggly beard covering most of his face, but she could not mistake those eyes. He looked up at their entrance, and his face filled with confusion and doubt. Then there was recognition, and she watched his eyes fill with tears.

The guards didn't have a chance to react before the others had dispatched them, ruthlessly cutting them down where they stood. Autumn flung herself into the room, grabbing the key to the chains that was laying on table, cluttered with torture devices spattered in Cullen's blood. _Never should have been this way._

“Autumn...” Cullen whispered, his eyes still wide. “It can't be...”

She released his chains and he tumbled down into her arms, barely able to keep himself upright. He felt so weak against her, her heart shattered.

He looked into her eyes, tears welling in her own. “Oh Cullen, what did they do to you...” she could barely speak, could barely make sound come out of her choked throat. There were chains in her chest, wrapping tighter and tighter so that she couldn’t breathe. The others in the room stepped out to guard the door. Dorian took one look at the ruin of the man in her arms and followed suit, leaving her alone with him.

“It's not possible...” he said, still in awe. “I looked for you, for months I looked for you...” he shakily placed his hand on the side of her face, holding her as though sure she wasn't real. “How is this possible?”

She swallowed back the sob in her throat. “Alexius tried to do...something, but sent us into the future instead.”

“Then, they never got to you?” his relief was tangible in his words. “I hoped, when there was no body, but was so afraid...” his voice was shaky with fatigue and emotion. “But no, we have to get you out of here. If _he_ finds you...we have to hide you.” He tired to stand, and with great effort was able to carry his own weight on legs that quaked and threatened to buckle at any moment.

“We're going to go back. Dorian thinks he knows how to get me back to our time...my time...to keep this from ever happening.” Tears were streaming down her face, and she didn't have the strength to hide her emotion. Cullen, brave, strong, handsome, smirking Cullen, standing before her so tortured and broken…was too much. This whole future was too much. She had to get back. She could _never_ let this come to pass. _Never should have been._

Weakly, Cullen opened a chest in the room and outfitted himself with shabby armor and a sword. He looked as though he could barely hold himself up, but the determination on his face brought a little life back into his haunted eyes.

“We don't have much time. Lets get you home.” his voice had a hint of its normal fire, and this helped her reclaim some of her composure.

They left the room, rejoined the others, and began searching yet again for the throne room. When they found it they were finally discovered by a guard fast enough to get away and run to warn the others. An alarm sounded somewhere in the castle, and they knew their cover had been blown. Outside the doors of the room they could hear a great din of inhuman sounds, screeches and howls that curdled Autumns blood. Dorian began to prepare the spell. Everything happened in a blur, and blur of sound and terror, of things that Autumn didn’t want to slow down to see, didn’t want to see enough to remember.

“Put your hand on my shoulder, and whatever you do, do _not_ let go.” Dorian ordered her, and then he looked to the others. “I need time and concentration to cast this. Whatever happens, don't let them interrupt us.” the others nodded somberly at him. Cullen placed his hand on her cheek, a gentle brush bathing her in a years worth of meaning, and he looked as though he was about to say something when the door burst open. Guards and demons alike started rushing towards them, and Cullen dropped his hand from her face and cried out savagely, joining the others as they charged into the fray, forming a protective circle around the casting mage.

She clapped her hand over the sob bursting from her throat when she saw Varric go down, a demon shoving its fist clear through his middle. Her mind was reeling with the chaos all around them, and she slammed her eyes shut, hoping that she could block out the horror. The horde was getting closer, shaking the ground with their cries, a heartbeat for the void that was given life when this world had bloomed into existence. There were so many of them, all of them mistakes that carried dead souls that chanted her name, blamed her for their ends. Dorian was fervently chanting beside her, and she could feel magic crackling in the air around them, surrounding them in a cloud of bright light that spilled in through the darkness of her eyelids.

She opened her eyes again, and she saw Cullen dragged down by a demon, the light leaving his eyes as he reached for her.

She screamed

_This was never supposed to happen._

 


	8. Not Dead, Heading Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Autumn returns to the present and is very bad at understanding the consequences of stab wounds.

She was still screaming when they tumbled out of thin air back into the throne room. The throne room in the _correct_ timeline. Varric, Bull, and Solas were currently surrounded by guards, backing away towards the wall while Solas maintained a barrier around them, keeping them safe from magical attacks but less so from the sword points being leveled at their hearts. By the look on his strained face, he was clearly running out of strength. Alexius still sat in his throne, a gloating look on his face.

Autumn hit the floor hard, banging her already bruised body against the ground and driving the scream out of her throat, but Dorian landed lightly on his feet. With a cry of rage, he made a giant, sweeping gesture, spinning his staff rapidly. Lightning swept across the room, frying the nervous systems of most of the guards, leaving them to collapse in twitching heaps. Alexius roared in desperate rage while Bull and Varric cheered, and Solas collapsed against the column, his eyes focusing on her as she watched everything unfold from the floor. Autumn scrambled to her feet and drew her weapons as chaos erupted all around her The remaining guards were trying to regain control of the situation, but the others were too fast for them, and they started to go down one by one. Alexius, seeing failure rushing towards him, pulled out a long, alarmingly red blade, and charged straight at Autumn. She wasn't prepared for it, and the others were all busy with guards.

She tried to throw up her daggers and spin out of the way, but she wasn't fast enough, and she felt the blade tear across her stomach, burning pain sinking deep into her flesh. She screamed, rolling heavily onto the ground as the hit unbalanced her dodge. She felt sticky blood running down her abdomen, and the skin where the wound opened up was molten. She tried to get up but stumbled, and Alexius was on her before she could right herself. He kicked her savagely in the exact spot of the gash, knocking her onto her back and taking the breath out of her lungs again. She wheezed painfully, her vision swirling with red spots. She saw him hovering over her, raising his dagger, and tried to brace herself for what was next.

_Maybe it was just never supposed to happen at all._

Then he was tumbling away from her, magic fizzing in an angry ball against his chest. She looked over and saw a Dorian shaped blur, breathing heavily, his staff aimed at where Alexius had just stood. She shook her head to clear her vision and scrambled to her feet, gripping her weapons and facing him, but Alexius remained on the ground, groaning. Solas ran past her and waved a hand over Alexius, sprinkling what looked like a white fog across his prone form. The mage stopped moaning and holding his chest and lay still.

Autumn stood, blades still at the ready, trying to catch her breath. She looked around and saw that all the guards were dead, and her companions were the only ones left standing in the room. She turned to Solas and inclined her head towards the prone man on the ground. “Is he...?”

“Dead? No. I have sedated him, as I am sure our spymaster will have questions she will insist that he answer.” his eyes glinted dangerously in the dim light.

She nodded just as a spasm of pain wracked her stomach. She doubled over, gasping with the surge. The wound felt like it was filled with red hot embers Bull rushed over and placed his hand on her elbow, but she pushed him away, standing up straight. “I'm fine, I'm fine. Just a scratch.” she tightened the leather strap cinching her armor around her waist, and the pressure helped the pain somewhat. She had to focus, as the work was not done yet. “Come on boys, let's go recruit some mages.” She limped towards the door, where a group of mages had already gathered, looking at her with awe and admiration.

***

Autumn was just reaching across the table and clasping Fiona's hand, their agreement for the alliance reached - with Varric's tactful help - when the door to the conference room burst open. She stood out of her chair, half turning to face the intruder and reaching for her weapons. A very angry, tall, blonde man strode into the room, his dark brown eyes seeming to accuse everyone present of some crime she had yet to claim.

“Grand Enchanter Fiona.” he snapped, his voice booming in the small space.

“King Alistair?!” Fiona quailed against the fury in his gaze.

“When I offered the mages safe harbor in Redcliffe I am pretty sure it didn't include ousting my uncle from his holdings. Or Tevinter. _Definitely_ not Tevinter.”

“My king, I can assure you, we never intended to -”

“Your intentions are no longer relevant.” He heaved a beleaguered sigh, a slight grimace passing over his face. “I wanted to help, truly I did, but you have made that impossible.”

“You don't have to go all kingly rage, Alistair. We've already settled your problem.” Varric quipped from his seat on the other end of the room. Alistair looked sharply to where the voice came from, and Autumn watched his features change from sad anger to pure exuberance.

“Varric Tethras? What in the Maker's name are you doing here?” the King transformed before them, and now looked for all the world like a giddy little boy. The sight was so unexpected that Autumn giggled, drawing the man's attention to her. For a minute he got a far off look in his eyes, as though seeing her sent his thoughts spiraling down a dark road.

“I found another redheaded rogue to follow around Thedas.” Varric told him, grinning from ear to ear as he got out of his chair and walked over to the King. The two clasped hands in greeting.

“Well then, introduce me. You know how I feel about redheaded rogues.” Alistair was grinning at her, and she couldn't help but feel like she was missing the joke.

“It is my great honor to present to you the Herald of Andraste...or, if you don't want to get acquainted with the business end of a dagger, Lady Autumn Trevelyan.”

“Varric! I wouldn't stab a King!” Autumn pretended to be scandalized. “At least, not with any witnesses.”

Alistair tossed his head back and laughed. “Sweet Maker you really did find another one, didn't you?” Varric shrugged, looking pleased with himself. Alistair took her hand, shaking it firmly. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Trevelyan. I am Alistair Theirin, unwitting King of Ferelden.” his face fell abruptly. “My apologies for my entrance earlier, I uh...” he was at a loss for words.

“It is no trouble, my king. We have made an agreement with the Inquisition to join their forces, and will be out of your lands soon. Herald, if it pleases you, I will go begin preparing my people for departure.” Fiona cut in, bowing low to both of them before she left the room in a rush.

“If it pleases me?” Autumn blinked at the spot that Fiona had vacated. “When did that start?”

Alistair chuckled. “You know, you never really get use to it, either.” He gestured for her to take her seat again while he pulled up his own chair. “So just like that, Inquisition to the rescue?”

She turned and grinned.“We do that. I think it might be our motto.”

“So I've been hearing. This Inquisition is beginning to look like the party I wasn't invited to.”

Varric chuckled. “That's what you get when you become King. Nobody invites you to the really fun shindigs.”

Autumn cocked her head at him questioningly, which only served to make him laugh again. “Sorry, we must not make a lick of sense to you. Varric and I go way back. We've had our share of adventures together. I also traveled with Leliana during the blight, and saved Cullen in the circle tower. I was surprised to hear they had all banded together to form some majestic organization of benevolence.”

“Saved Cullen from the circle?” she asked, puzzled even more now.

“She doesn't know that story yet, your Kingship.” Varric told him softly.

“Oh, well...how is he, anyways?” Alistair deftly avoided answering her question.

“Surprisingly better. He learned a lot from his years in Kirkwall, I think.”

“I should think so, especially if he is letting you bring mages into his army.”

“Shit.” Autumn swore, occupied enough with the idea of Cullen’s soon to be irritation that she forgot she was in the presence of people she probably shouldn’t swear in front of. “Oh, your Majesty, forgive my rudeness I just -”

Alistair laughed heartily. “You have absolutely no reason to worry, believe me, I’ve heard worse. And please, call me Alistair, I can't stand all the pomp and titles.” he grinned. “Now, I believe you were swearing?”

“Yes. Cullen maybe doesn't know that I offered the mages a full alliance yet...and he maybe also doesn't know we're still alive yet, and I think maybe he might just kill me when we get back.” she screwed up her mouth to the side, trying to figure out exactly how she was going to explain all of it to him.

Alistair practically doubled over with his laugh. “Oh, you are so much like her it hurts.”

“Like who?” she asked dumbly.

“Melody. I remember all the times she rushed forward and did something without consulting anyone.” his face fell abruptly again, looking like his heart was breaking just talking about her. “Maker I miss her.”

“The Queen still missing?” Varric asked softly. For a moment Autumn was terrified that she apparently resembled the queen of Ferelden, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything about it at the moment.

“I could have Leliana look into finding her, if you like.” Autumn offered. Alistair's face brightened.

“That would be...I mean...well, first maybe close the hole in the sky, then get back to me. Deal?”

“You got it, Alistair.” she beamed at him.

“Varric, see to it this little rogue makes it out of all this alive. The world would be lost without them.” Alistair ordered. “Also, sign a few copies of Swords and Shields while you're here, Melody will kill me if she found out I saw you again and didn't ask.”

***

_Sister,_

_Not dead, heading home._

_Met some blonde guy who says hi, said if I told you he misses Schmooples you would know who it was._

_I am bringing a lot of liberated friends, I expect a full welcome for them._

_Don't let Curly scowl too much about it._

_Make sure the usual are assembled, there's a lot for us to catch up on._

_-Hummingbird_

 

Cullen watched as Josephine scowled at him, arguing again against taking the sort of precautions necessary considering what Autumn had just done. He had half a mind to take a contingent of troops and march off to recruit the templars just to counteract the disaster that was sure to be mages running loose near the breach. The _other_ half of him wanted to find Autumn and give her a piece of his mind for even considering this insane alliance. A _full_ alliance. Mages free to come and go as they pleased. She was from the Free Marches, had she not seen what happened at Kirkwall? Had she not heard? Was she utterly mad? When she had said she wanted to work with the mages he had understood, but he didn't think she had meant setting them all loose while the veil was torn open.

He grimaced as the woman who was currently the source of his ire strode into the hall, walking up to the cluster of arguing advisors. He saw her shoulders tense as she listened to their debate, her strides awkward and lurching as she approached.

“What were you thinking?!” he was shouting at her before he could contain himself, but it felt good to release the frustration that had been building at the base of his skull since he had heard the news. “Letting mages loose with no oversight? Are you insane?”

There was a flicker of strong emotion in her eyes for a moment before she seemed to blink it away. Her eyebrows met above the bridge of her nose, his comments earning him a sharp glare. “They aren't monsters, Cullen. They're people, and they deserve respect.”

Cullen felt like the wind had been knocked out of him, the echoes of his past skating through his mind. Two other women had told him the exact same thing before, or very near the exact same thing. He felt his anger dissolve into something closer to shame. Would he never learn his lesson? Would he ever lose his distrust and unfairness towards mages? Were his fears even justified anymore? The memories of Kinloch hold were like hooks set deep in his mind, infecting his thoughts even though he sought freedom. Freedom that mages sought from the horrors that he _knew_ could be inflicted by the templars charged with their care. Were none of them to ever have freedom from the nightmares of the past?

And why was it every time he felt completely put in his place it was at the other end of a stern gaze from a short, redheaded rogue?

He thought of Uldred, of Anders, of all the bloodmages that had wreaked havoc throughout his life. But he also thought of Wynne, of Merrill and Bethany, Solas and Vivienne. It seemed for every mage he knew that used their powers for evil he had met one that used them for good. Was it truly fair to let himself fear them all because of what a few could do? Wasn't that what Melody, Hawke, and now Autumn had all been trying to tell him? But...there were so many people here relying on his command, relying on his judgment to keep them safe. He wasn't sure if he could truly afford to have the same level of compassion that Autumn had. It rankled him, but he spoke his mind all the same. “It's not about respect. It's about protecting our people from abominations.”

She didn't like the response, he could see it in the way her shoulders drew back, defiance on her petite features What killed him the most was the disappointment in her eyes. “If you really can't let go of your prejudice, then try to consider this their probation period. But for the love of the Maker, give them a chance.”

“We cannot afford to second guess our people. None of us were there, we cannot question the Herald's decision.” Cassandra said, dispelling the last bit of argument that he had in him. He sighed, closing his eyes and hanging his head, letting the anger disappear completely. It left him hollow and cold, as it always did.

“The voice of pragmatism speaks. And here I was hoping we might actually see a full on duel.” the Tevinter mage spoke up from behind them. Cassandra turned around and smiled politely at him, but Cullen could only muster a cursory nod. He didn't know this man yet, and he was worried at how quickly Autumn seemed to have put her trust in him. Ignoring the pangs of what he would deny till his death were obviously jealousy, he turned back as Leliana spoke.

“We need to discuss the things you saw in this dark future. We should take this to the war room.” She said, obviously focusing on the tactics she could apply once she learned the details of the information.

“Join us. None of this means anything without you.” he told Autumn, smiling at her in the hopes that she would not remain angry and resentful towards him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Leliana's eyebrow shoot up, the barest hint of a smile spreading across her face. Too late he realized what he had said. “You are the one with the mark, after all.” he added quickly, but he knew the damage had been done. The spymaster was not likely to miss the slip, and Cullen cursed his own reckless tongue.

Autumn sighed heavily. “Of course, the mark.” for a moment he thought he might have offended her, but she straightened again and smiled. “And here I thought I would sit out the assault on the breach, maybe have a nice bath, glass of wine, read a filthy novel.” she grinned at him as he flushed at the imagery she painted for them. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly trying to find anything to look at that wasn't her eyes. Which was actually a mistake, because it left his mind free to conjure up more scenes of her covered in soapy water...

“I'll skip the war council, if you don't mind, but if you decide to have that bath come and find me.” the mage said flippantly, and Cullen had to clamp down on the urge to snap at him. The visions in his head were now permanently ruined.

“Then you're staying?” Autumn face was lit up with delighted surprise.

“What, and miss the bubble bath? Besides, I believe you owe me a fruit basket.” he gave her a charming grin, which she returned in full force.

“There's no one I would rather be stranded in time with, future or present.” She skipped over and gave him a giant hug, which made Cullen want to growl like some kind of angry lion. He narrowed his eyes, wishing he didn't know exactly why it bothered him. He heard Leliana snicker quietly next to him and shot her a look he hoped was intimidating and fierce. Which, of course, only served to make her smirk more. Women would be the death of him.

“Yes, well, let's try not to get stranded anymore, shall we?” he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before sauntering off. Autumn turned back to them and Cullen quickly changed his facial expression, giving her a warm smile that showed nothing of his reaction moments before.

“Shall we?” he offered her his arm before he could think about how odd that must look. She smiled and went to take it, however, which made him swell with a mixture of pride and happiness.

She never got a chance to take the arm, however.

She hit the ground before any of them could register what exactly was happening. Dorian turned at the cry of panic escaping Josephine's lips, and he rushed back to her. Cullen took in the fact that she was unusually pale, that her breathing was actually quite shallow, that the light in her eyes was not, in fact, the normal sparkle that lived there, but a glass-like reflection of it, as though she were seeing through a haze. Cullen knelt down, pulling off his glove and brushing her hair out of her face, palming her forehead.

“She's burning up!” he exclaimed. Then he saw it. It was well hidden, tucked away in the folds of her armor very deliberately. She had obviously hidden it on purpose, but now that he was examining her he could see the small spot of blood seeping through. He gently lifted the leather covering the spot and sucked in a cold breath through his teeth. Underneath, her armor was nearly soaked through, everything below the first layer completely red. “Somebody get a healer!” he choked out. Panic, sour and undiluted, crowded its way into his mind.

There was a flurry of activity as Adan and Solas were called in, and Autumn was lifted and carried to her own cabin. Cullen followed, his chest tight as he watched her prone form closely, feeling helpless while the healers conferred in hushed tones. Autumn was laid out on her bed, stripped of her leather gear and in nothing but light cotton plainclothes. The sweat all over her body was very evident now, and the gash across her stomach laid bare. The cut was long, and deep, and the skin around it appeared to be burned underneath all the blood, as well as the cotton of the shirt she wore. Solas lifted the tattered clothing up and rested his hands over the wound, his eyes closed in concentration.

The healer approached Cullen. “She is gravely injured.” he whispered, as though that weren't obvious. “Solas says the blade that got her must have been forged with red lyrium, which caused the burns and the fever. I can stitch up the wound, but the infection is strange. We are waiting to see what he can do...”

Solas stood up then and turned around. “The infection is not deep, and the fever will pass soon.” he was panting, winded from whatever he had just done. “She will live, but will need time to recover. I have done what I can, but she will need potions, stitches, and rest.” He nodded to the commander and the healer and walked out of the room, the matter apparently concluded. Adan then proceeded to dress the wound, sewing the torn flesh shut and wrapping her in a tight layer of bandages and medicine. After he was done, he stood and looked around nervously as if unsure of what to do next.

“Go, I will stay with her to see that she rests. Please go tell Sister Leliana and Lady Josephine of her condition, they will want to be updated.” Cullen told him, and the healer bowed and left.

Her breathing seemed less labored now, and the tension in her brow had relaxed. Cullen drew up a chair to her bedside, leaning on the blankets and placing his head in his hands. It had been close. Close to the very thing that kept him sleepless every time she set out on some errand or another. She could have died, and he could have done nothing to help her. All would have been lost, and worse, his heart would have been wrenched from his chest.

“Cullen?” her voice was weak and raspy. The small sound startled him nonetheless, as he had not heard her stir.

“Autumn! I didn’t hear you wake.” Her eyes looked dazed and clouded. She smiled at him though, a faint, fluttering thing.

“Where...how...the war council?” she looked around, confused. “The guys!” she gasped, wincing at the pain it brought. “Dorian had a wound, and Bull I think...I must make sure they get....I meant to check on them after the council...” she tried to sit up, then inhaled a sharp breath and shuddered as the muscles near her wound contracted. She fell back down, weak and trembling.

“Everyone is fine.” He said, gently placing a hand on her shoulder to keep her from getting up again. “They have all been seen to.”

“I should....make sure....” she was panting with her efforts, clearly worried about her men. He knew the feeling well, and he felt proud of her despite the knowledge that he knew the best course of action was for her to leave that worrying to others better suited to the task.

“Shh. You need to rest.” his voice was low, a whisper on an empty wind. She turned to him again, her eyes meeting his, and her fretting stopped as she gazed at him.

“I'm so glad you're alive.” she spoke with relief that was palpable, and then could say no more as she drifted off into unconsciousness again. Cullen was confused, but she had seemed so happy to mean what she said...he had no idea why she might have been worried for his life, but he was touched regardless. Before he could stop himself, he brought his arm up and brushed the damp hair out of her face, resting his hand on her cheek. The heat of her skin was oppressive, the fever still burning in her veins. She smiled and turned into his hand, though, almost nuzzling it.

For a moment he stayed like that, letting his heart break apart into a million pieces of relief and love, watching her rest more peacefully than he thought rest could be. Reluctantly, he moved his hand and sat back down next to her bed. What _was_ he going to do about her?

***

“That's not possible.” the shrewd spymaster regarded Dorian coldly, clearly not wishing to believe his tale. He was beginning to resent the fact that Autumn had chosen _this_ moment to go unconscious, leaving him to debrief her seemingly indefatigable advisors in her stead. He did have to concede the point, however, that had he not lived through it himself he would be hard pressed to call it fact. That didn't make the circular arguments and questioning any less frustrating for himself, however.

“I wish you were right.” he glanced meekly at the others in the room. Autumn was well loved, and he had been met with a group of very angry advisors demanding to know what had happened to their small Herald. Dorian wasn't sure they wouldn't have dismembered him in a frothing rage had it not been for Varric and Bull vouching for him, although both of the strapping men were melancholy about the situation as much as anyone.

Dorian could certainly understand. In his small time knowing the little redhead she had certainly been awe inspiring. She had a way about her that made people want to follow her, made it easy to believe she might actually be the holy woman many claimed her to be. Better than that, though, she had been a thoughtful, kind, and funny person. Dorian was not at all surprised that the members of the Inquisition were so protective of her.

“Why her, though?” Cullen asked. The poor man looked stricken. He had been carrying around the same forlorn look in his eyes since Autumn had collapsed in the chantry. After seeing what he had seen in the future – one that would hopefully never come to pass - Dorian suspected the staunch commander was a little more infatuated with Autumn than the rest of them. He had recounted the story of everything that had happened in the future in as great of detail as possible, but Dorian had left out the some of the more painful moments Autumn had shared with the commander there. Something told him that she would not want that broadcast. Everything else had been laid bare before them, though.

“Assassinating the Empress? Who would even have the power to attempt such a thing?” Josephine scoffed. The ambassador looked very afraid at the prospect. To nobles, the sun rose and set from the Empress of Orlais' bosom, so he was not surprised to see the regal woman balk.

“Apparently the Venatori.” Dorian shrugged, leaning against the wall as his muscles continued their monotonous complaint against his upright position. This interrogation had been going on for some time, and he was exhausted from explaining the facts over and over again. They had been on the road, and then they had been terrified for Autumn, and then they had all been in _debriefing_ mode ad nauseam. If he didn’t get out of this cycle soon he would just start setting things on fire out of desperation.

“I must find out more about this Elder One. I will send my scouts to try and find out what they can.” Leliana nodded to the others and walked angrily out of the room without further preamble. She was not happy about the potential threats they faced, and seemed to be seething that she had not seen the situation in Redcliffe coming beforehand. She clearly blamed herself for Autumn's current state of being, though Dorian was just grateful she wasn’t blaming _him_.

“I will start investigating the situation in Orlais, see if there are any facts to be found amongst the players of the game.” Josephine bowed before she scurried out of the room, heels clicking smartly with her steps.

Cullen looked up at Dorian and gave him a weak smile that did not reach his eyes. He brought his hand up and rubbed at the back of his neck, sighing heavily. “Thank you for bringing her back.” he mumbled, then nodded and walked out of the room, leaving Dorian to see himself out.

_Poor man_ , Dorian thought. It would be tough being in love with Autumn, watching her throw herself into danger. He doubted that she made things any easier for him, either. She was somewhat of a feisty thing, and he could imagine her being impossibly stubborn. At least he would get the chance to find out for certain. Joining the Inquisition was the right thing to do, both for himself and his country. He would be damned if he let a bunch of mad cultists from his homeland ruin the world, and he would be double damned if he would let them kill his new friend in the process.

Dorian walked off to find someplace to rest, wondering if the resolution to stay would come to bite him in the ass at some point, as so many of the decisions he made often did.

 


	9. Topless Blacksmithing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Leliana copes and Bull is not very friendly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEW CONTENT. Or at least, newer, depending on when you're reading this.

Faren was supposed to be training to be ever-alert to his surroundings, and capable of using that ability to his advantage in order to sneak up on those that were less aware. There was no training, however, that could have prepared him for the spymaster flinging open the door to their small cabin and storming in like an avalanche, her anger more crushing than a thousand pounds of snow. Her brows were furrowed in furious concentration as the heels of her boots created a quick staccato back and forth across the wooden floor. Charter left her seat and smoothly closed the swinging door behind their leader as she paced the short length of the room. She ran a shaking hand through her hair, agitation rolling off of her in waves. Faren had never seen her lose her composure like this, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out what had caused it.

Harding frowned, setting down her ale and pushing aside the cards that marked the remnants of their interrupted game. “Should we mobilize?”

Leliana dismissed the suggestion with an absent wave of her trembling hand. “Against what? We cannot attack what has not yet happened.”

Faren exchanged glances with Harding, the other dwarf shaking her head to indicate that she wasn’t clear on what their superior was talking about either. Leliana cast her eyes over those gathered in the room, and her gaze settled on Faren, a flicker of hesitation burning in it. He was not yet part of this fold, not officially. He was not recognized as being part of the innermost circles, of her most trusted advisors. They were the ravens that spread their wings to cast shadows across Thedas. He was still a little bird, flitting from branch to branch and trying to learn how to read the wind. The spymaster did not protest his presence, however, and seemed to decide in that moment that he had risen in her graces enough to be privy to the incoming conversations. She continued her frantic pacing, and he suppressed the explosion of pride that was swelling in his chest.

“The Maker choses the strangest ways to test us. I have been faithful, and I have seen much in my time in His service, but this? What am I to do with some dark omen based on ludicrous stories?” her anger simmered behind her words, and she clenched her fists as she darted to and fro across the room.

“Maybe you could clue us in on what has you bolting like a new halla?” Charter sat backwards in her chair, dangling her arms over the back as her eyes followed Leliana’s incessant movement.

“The Herald. Everything she does breaks all the rules.” Leliana bit her lower lip, her eyes losing focus as they stared at nothing in particular. “There are no survivors, and yet there she stands. There is no control over the rifts, and yet there she goes. There is no such thing as time travel, and _yet she returns from such._ What am I to do with this…anomaly?”

Harding choked on the sip of ale that had been halfway down her throat. “Did you just say _time travel?”_

Charter rose from her chair, as silent as a cat on the prowl, but Leliana didn’t seem to notice. “She met the mages, and was transported forward in time by some nefarious Tevinter magic. Or so her strange new companion claims. I have yet to hear the story from her first hand…” she faltered, in step and speech, her expression filling with grim despair. “Remind me, Charter, that I need to question this Magister Alexius before the evening is through. I do not want to give him time to rest and fill his head with lies to feed us.”

Charter, who had moved to the back of the room and was busying herself with the task of pouring a massive glass of wine, nodded her assent without a word. This seemed to be enough acknowledgment for Leliana, who let the matter drop and resumed her pacing.

“How is she?” Harding softened her tone, her concern showing in the sad tilt to her lips.She didn’t have to explain who she meant, either. They all knew the Herald had fallen in the chantry, and they had all been sitting on pins and needles waiting to hear news of what ailed her. Faren had heard the most outlandish rumors, including that she had been stabbed by a Tevinter Magister with a dagger made of magical, poisonous rock. At the time he had first heard the story he had cuffed the younger recruit for spreading lies, but now that he heard the spymaster talking, he was horrified that it might have been closer to the truth than he would have ever guessed.

“Recovering. Barely. And that is in no way thanks to myself. Not only did I know nothing but vagaries of the troubles forming in Redcliffe, I missed all the signs when she had returned. She was pale, shaky, and so feverish that she should have been delirious, and I was so focused on our moon-eyed Commander that I neglected the most important member the Inquisition has.” Leliana stopped her tumultuous path as Charter pressed a goblet brimming with wine into her palm. “I have grown soft, and those around me suffer for it.” She lifted the wine to her lips, draining half the glass in one long, silent pull. She closed her eyes as the alcohol took its effect, numbing the edges of her keening senses.

“What can we do to help?” Harding folded her hands in front of her on the table.

The sound of thick glass snapping filled the room as Leliana slammed her goblet onto the table with enough force to spill the remainder of the wine within and create spiderweb cracks along the stem. “What _can_ we do? It is our responsibility to never let anything like this happen again. We didn’t see this coming, we didn’t even have enough people in the field to know _what_ was coming. I cannot begin to know how to combat such a deficit of information.”

Charter huffed out a mirthless laugh. “Sounds to me like we need more people in the field, then. More eyes, more ears, more information.”

Leliana narrowed her eyes at the elf. “And you have these people in your pocket, I presume?”

“ _I_ don’t,” Charter shook her head, “but our resident jackboot might have a few tucked away. Have you considered asking the Commander to send some of the recruitment flow your way? We’ve had people pouring in since our Lady the Holy Rogue started traipsing about the countryside, impressing the little folk.”

“Us little folk do like a good traipsing.” Faren added, sharing a grin with Harding, whom he knew would appreciate his particular dwarven brand of humor.

“Which brings us to another important point. We’re already training more scouts to be rotated through field positions,” Harding nodded towards Faren, who felt uncomfortable under the abrupt scrutiny the spymaster was directing towards him, “so we might as well filch some of the people under Cullen’s wing and train more. There have to be some that aren’t clumsy and awkward.”

Leliana walked across the room and settled into a chair at the table, every movement of her body a calculated effort full of grace and power. She was still looking at him, her blue eyes boring holes into his head. He could feel the contents within spilling out, all his secrets unfolding for her perusal. He could hide nothing from her, and he knew this, and he wanted to shrink away and hide in the shadows, to cover himself in the dust of anonymity and never be seen again.

That was not who he was anymore. His lack of status and name did not follow him here as it had in his homeland. There was no stone above his head reminding him that he could not rise above his place in the world. The sky was the limit, gaping green hole notwithstanding, and he would not let the ghosts of his childhood continue to keep him from being seen. Let Leliana have his secrets. Let her have his whole life, his past and present and future. He would be the best damn scout she had ever seen, and he would _make_ a name for himself, one hard fought mission at a time.

He cleared his throat, roughly swallowing back the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him.

Leliana frowned. “You are progressing well, from what I hear. But you alone are not enough. I want you to pick two colleagues. Take them from Cullen’s ranks or the mages or pluck them from the mountainside for all I care, but choose two people you would trust more than anything.With more than your life, because your life means nothing to me. Trust them with the cause. Trust them with the world. Choose them, and report to Harding in the morning to continue your training.”

“Yes ma’am.” He spoke faster and clearer than he would have dared hope. Her words were harsh, but they made him proud. She trusted him to make this choice for himself, and to continue progressing in his skills. She had given him a purpose, a task, and he had taken it within himself in turn. He would be this, and Faren of the casteless, Faren who was used by Jarvia to wade through shit like an old, unwanted boot, _that_ Faren would fade into dust.

“Am I to assume we should pass this project on to our other special snowflake initiates as well?” Charter produced a sheet of parchment seemingly from nowhere and started scribbling indecipherable notes across the page.

“Yes. I’ll speak with the Commander about the project. I should be able to get him to agree if I spin it in favor of keeping the Herald from getting injured again.”

“Which reminds me,” Charter looked up from her scribbling, her brows furrowed. “Moon-eyed Commander? Care to explain that little turn of phrase?”

Leliana laughed, a sharp sound but a genuine laugh all the same. “The fact that you caught that means I have entrusted the right woman with this job. I’ll not spoil the surprise, however. If you really _are_ as keen as you seem, you can decipher my meaning on your own time.”

“Tease.” Harding tossed a card at her, and Leliana laughed again, this time more freely.

“Only always.” She rubbed at her tired eyes, wiping away the remnants of anger that had lingered there before and leaving behind the deep exhaustion of an overworked woman. “Come, let us get our birds in a row before I retire for the evening. I do not want to delay this process a moment longer. Faren, if you know who you would like to enlist you are dismissed to go find them, we won’t be doing anything more exciting here than making lists.” He nodded his assent and stood to leave, making his way towards the door.

Harding sighed heavily, leaning back in her chair. “Oh goody, my favorite activity.

“Says the girl who makes lists of wildlife in every new area we push through.” Charter didn’t glance up from her writing, but her smirk spoke volumes as Harding glared back at her.

“Those could be important scientific notations someday, you know.”

“Only to the most insufferable of scientists.” Charter shot back.

Their bickering continued as he made his exit, leaving the warmth of the cabin to consider the task that had been placed in his hands.

Luckily, he didn’t have to waste much time on deliberation. He knew exactly who he wanted for the job, and he knew exactly where they would be at this time of night. The sounds of the tavern called to him through the snow, a siren song of welcome amidst the sleepy village that was huddled in the darkness, hiding from the burdens of tomorrow. Faren allowed himself to be carried into the light, both physically and metaphorically, just this once. The responsibility of the next day brought promise, and tonight he would celebrate that promise with those he would choose to share it with.

***

As he gazed up at the myriad of stars scattered across the pitch black backdrop, Iron Bull thought that the night felt endless. He liked it that way. When it was quiet, when everyone else was asleep, he didn’t feel like he was being watched anymore, and it soothed him to be unseen in the few hours of the day that he could manage such a feat.

The Iron Bull was not a man made to be hidden. In fact, he often engineered it that way. The name _The Iron Bull_ didn’t get picked unless the chooser wanted to draw attention to themselves. He was massive, he was loud, and he found himself at the center of attention more often than not. Still, as with any other person on the planet, Bull was more than just a small list of adjectives. He was also a spy, who did his duty to the best of his abilities even if he didn’t always understand why anymore. He grew irritated when people couldn’t stop gaping at his horns, and he became self conscious when he was the butt of jokes. It was easy enough to pretend that these things weren’t true, to the casual observer, but this illusion grew tiresome.

So he found himself seeking out the deepest parts of the night, alone, where he could try to face his thoughts without holding a stern mask across his face. In the night, he let the memories wash over him. He could remember the blood red wails and the innocents that had fallen, he could remember breath against his neck and the bitter sting of betrayal. Beneath the stars it was easy to be himself, because no one could see who that really was. He could grimace or frown or cry, and the points of light high up above would never tell a soul. The night hid him, kept his secrets safe, and it was why he sought it out, alone, time and time again.

The air struck his skin like a bitter kiss, cold and unforgiving. He reveled in the way it made his blood feel warmer, made his heartbeat feel all the more rebellious as it denied the icy sky entrance to his veins. He looked around, the silence his only company, and considered where he would take himself this evening. It was not a far trek to the blacksmith from his tent, and so he trudged through the layers of snow into the empty building, pulling has ax from its resting place before settling on a rickety chair next to the still warm hearth. He rifled through his pockets until he found the strangely shaped stone he used to sharpen the blade, and set to work on his weapon. The strike of the rock against the steel made a shrieking, ringing sound that reverberated in the empty room, and Bull fell into a rhythm as he let his mind wander through the past to work out the demons that followed the memories.

The intruder was quieter than many others might have been, his small feet making minute sounds against the padding of the snow. Still, Bull heard Dorian’s footsteps, and he heard the soft creak of the wood as the man slipped through the door and into the dim glow of the embers. He stood where he was, his breath coming in stuttering gasps as he recovered from the night air, just watching Bull as he continued to work.

Bull had little interest in putting on a show for the benefit of a spoiled Magister’s brat. “Go away.”

Dorian huffed, huddled in a silk wrap that was lined with plush fur. “Good evening to you, as well. Why yes, I’m doing marvelous after a quick rest, thank you for asking. My injuries do not ail me, never fear.”

“I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to know.” Bull glanced over at him, briefly, taking stock of his lean muscles and hips cocked to the side, of his eyes lit with the orange glow of the dying fire and his faintly furrowed brow. “Besides, I can see you’re fine. It’s amazing how many shitty conversations you can skip using the power of observation.”

“You know, I’m not the villain you think I am.” His voice had a pleading thread to it that made Bull uneasy, and so he dipped his head down to focus on his work, tilting the edge of the ax to get a better angle. Dorian walked forward without invitation and sat on a crate in front of him.

Bull looked up and grunted in reply, irritated at the interruption and the impertinence of that interruption. “What do you want, Vint?”

“Is that all I get to be? ‘Vint’?” Dorian let the silk slip from around his shoulders so he could cross his arms. Despite the warmth in the room, Bull could see the other man’s flesh prickle from the cold. “I’m a person with a name, you know.”

Bull pointed his eyes back to the ax as firmly as he could manage. “Don’t care.”

He couldn’t see Dorian’s expression, but he _felt_ him roll his eyes. “My, but you are charming. I can see why she keeps you around.”

“Don’t mention her.” He snapped his head up and glared at the mage, furious for too many reasons. He didn’t trust anything that came from Tevinter, least of all a mage. The fact that he had weaseled his way into Autumn’s good graces wasn’t something Bull was happy about, even less so considering the trouble she had gotten in immediately after meeting them. It probably wasn’t fair, but Bull blamed Dorian for much of what had happened in Redcliffe. They met him, and now Autumn was unconscious in a bed, fighting for her life, and there wasn’t anything that Bull could do to help.

Dorian’s eyes flashed with lightning quick anger. “In case it might have slipped your immaculate skills of observation, _I’m_ the one that _saved_ her. I think I’ve earned the right to speak of her. And with her.”

Bull growled, but didn’t add anything more to the argument. It wouldn’t do any good, anyways. Vints never listened to fuckall that anyone else said.

Dorian sighed, visibly suppressing his irritation. “Look, I understand why you might be protective of her, and I understand why you might have some…animosity towards me, but I - “

“You understand? Do you now?” Bull laughed, a venomous sound that carried no warmth to it at all. “Have you spent a few weeks with me and learned all my secrets, just like that? Look, you don’t know _shit_ about me. If you did, you wouldn’t be standing here right now, prattling on like you have a right to be liked by me. You don’t. And I don’t. You don’t want to be seen as a villain? Then prove you aren’t one.” He stood and tossed his ax to the side, letting it hit the floor with a loud clatter that shattered the silence around them. He heard Harrit start to shuffle around in his shack next to them, and he knew that his serene evening had been ended. Bull loomed over Dorian, letting his anger roll off of him onto the smaller man, just this once letting the full force of his size petrify someone smaller.

Dorian swallowed, nervous, but there was anger in his eyes that surprised him. “You think you know _me_ so well? Let’s not pretend you aren’t the pot calling the kettle sinister. You made a judgment call about me before I’d even presented my information to Autumn, and nothing I’ve done has turned the tide of my sentence. You want me to prove I’m not a villain? _Fine._ I will do so by leaving you to your petty ignorance.” He stood up, lifting his chin to stare up at Bull, meeting his gaze with heated impotence. “Enjoy your topless blacksmithing. I’m sure it makes you feel very manly and important.” Then he turned on his finely clad heel and left the room, letting the door slam shut with a loud bang behind him.

Bull stared at the spot he had been for a long time, wondering if his fear of his memories had turned him into something he never wanted to be.

 


	10. Sincerely, Cullen Rutherford

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Autumn wakes up and Faren's team is very bad at sneaking.

Autumn awoke in her room at Haven feeling much better than she had the last time she had tried to open her eyes. The fire that had been tearing her insides apart was no longer there, and she felt like she could think clearly again. The wound making a hole in her middle had stopped eating away at her, and while still sore, felt dramatically better. She opened her eyes and blinked, dusting the remnants of sleep from her eyelashes, and with groggy slowness she realized that she was not alone.

A small candle burned on her bedside table, the wavering light illuminating Cullen as he slept in a chair next to her bed, his head resting next to her on his arm, his face turned towards her, and his hand cradling hers gently while he slept. His brows were knotted together, and his slumber looked less than peaceful, but he looked whole and healthy. The candlelight danced off his face, and even in the dim, flickering glow he was handsome. He had more stubble across his chin than usual, and his hair was slightly disheveled, which Autumn discovered only made him more attractive to her. She had to resist the urge to bury her fingers in his fine, blonde locks. She longed to trace her hand across his jaw, to pull him into bed with her and cradle him to her chest. She sighed and squashed down the urges. Commander Cullen was too professional to ever let business mix with pleasure. He might be a flirt, but she had no real hope that he actually meant any of it. She would probably never get anything more out of him than the friendship they already had, which was more than she had expected out of the battle beaten soldier she had met in the ruins of the temple. At least through that friendship she would be afforded the opportunity to keep him safe. The memory of what had happened to him in that terrible future haunted her, and she tried to shake it off. Cullen was here, safe, fine, _un-tortured._

She squeezed his hand gently, enough to rouse him, though that was not what she intended. He blinked his eyes at her, and a sweet smile spread across his face when he saw that she was awake.

“Autumn...” he whispered her name like a secret treasure and his fingers rubbed back and forth on her knuckles. She realized then that he wasn't wearing his gloves and armor, and he was touching her skin for maybe the first time, at least in this timeline. His hands were softer than she had expected, calloused though they were. “We thought for a moment we had lost you.” His eyes were brimming with emotion.

“No, Cullen, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.” she murmured, trying to make a joke to hide the lump in her throat. She was caught off guard by the depth of his honey eyes, and was quickly losing all her thoughts to inappropriate ones that involved a lot of heavy breathing.

He chuckled, a low, savory sound that made her eyes flutter shut as she drank it in. Then, as though he realized where he was and who he was talking to, he quickly straightened up and let go of her hand, becoming the Commander again. He cleared his throat and rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. “Your mage colleague Dorian has recounted the trials you have been through. It is...extraordinary, and quite frankly impossible.” He shook his head in disbelief.

“Oh believe me, as insane as it seems, it was _definitely_ possible.” She shuddered. “The things I saw....”

“I know, I heard.” he murmured. She saw sympathy in his eyes, and worry. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, don't worry about me.” She waved her hand at him, dismissing his somber question. “After all, what's a few more traumatic events? I seem to be collecting them.”

He made a face that was somehow both a smile and a frown. She tried to smile winningly at him, not sure if she was succeeding or not. She would not easily be able to shake the terror of what had happened in the future she saw, and it was still a raw wound in her mind.

He cleared his throat again, obviously feeling uncomfortable. “Well, I should go and let you get your rest. I shall see you again when you’re feeling better.” He stood up and walked briskly to the door. For a moment he hesitated, looking back at her with an expression she couldn't read, but whatever he had been thinking he seemed to brush it off, and he opened the door and left.

Autumn was left with her dark thoughts, and her room felt like all the warmth had left and followed him outside.

***

Cullen stood outside her door, bracing himself against the wood and taking a deep breath. He had almost lost all of his composure in there. He had never had such a conflicting maelstrom of emotions. He had wanted to kiss her tenderly, to rip her clothes off and claim her, to chastise her for being careless, to cry with relief that she appeared to be close to her usual self. Instead he just sat there, holding her hand awkwardly, trying to find _any_ words that were appropriate to express himself without crossing any lines. None had really come to him.

He couldn't express his feelings, could not put her in that position, but his need to do so felt like it was going to swallow him whole until all that was left was the unbearable longing for her. It didn't help that the lyrium withdrawals were getting worse, and that the only thing that seemed to distract him, really make him forget the pain and the shaking and the fear, was being near her. Falling asleep with her hand in his, and his head close enough to her that he could smell her as he drifted off, had given him the best sleep he had managed to get in weeks, although he had never intended to fall asleep in the first place. He wanted to crawl next to her and just absorb her warmth and joy...but of course, if holding her hand when she woke up was awkward, waking up to _that_ scenario probably would have been downright terrifying. He did not need to add to the demons that chased her heels every day.

He began walking away from her cabin, and he was about twenty feet away when he spotted Bull striding towards him. He looked slightly guilty as he approached Cullen, shuffling his great feet in the mounds of snow as he walked.

“Evening, Bull.” Cullen nodded as they met.

“How is she?” was all the Qunari offered in greeting.

“Better. Her fever is gone, and her head seems to have cleared.” He rubbed the back of his neck with a shaking hand. “Maker's breath, how did it get that bad?”

Bull grunted. “She’s stubborn. She told us that it was 'just a scratch', and that we needed more attention than she did.” he shook his head. “She sat through an entire meeting with those mages, offering them an alliance with that wound getting worse. She never even flinched.” His voice was full of pride as he recounted her accomplishment. “Even after that, she wouldn't let us check on her, insisting we get back here so we could all get 'well deserved rest'. She does that, you know. Always making sure we get taken care of first. Fucking stubborn redheaded venak hol.” the man trailed off, mumbling further curses in his native language. “I should have known better. I should have seen it.”

“I, too, wish I had seen it before she collapsed. I’m a damned fool. So I share that sentiment with you, on both counts.” Cullen smirked. “Stubborn _is_ one word she seems to embody. Not sure where we would be if she wasn't, though.”

“True enough.” he paused awkwardly, waiting to ask what Cullen knew was coming. “She awake now?”

“Uh....no, I think she went back to resting.” Cullen lied. She could very well still be awake, but something about Bull seeing her in the middle of the night, in the same vulnerable state Cullen had just seen her in, made his insides jerk.

“Ah...well...um...if you go back in there, would you let her know I'm sorry?”

“Sorry?” Cullen blinked at him. “Whatever for?”

“Sorry I let her get hurt.” Bull shrugged and walked off, headed towards his tent at the far end of the town, his massive feat leaving craters in the snow in his wake.

Not at all sure why, Cullen turned around and headed back to her cabin. The stars above twinkled down at him, their flickering light silent judgment for his strange behavior. He was the Commander of a growing army, and yet he was trudging around in the middle of the night like a teenager, unsure of himself, unsure of his actions, unsure of his feelings. His blood burned against the chill of the wind, tempered by the nervous energy that marched up and down his spine. Still, he continued, and reached her makeshift home, standing before the solid wood without much idea of what he intended to do. He knocked softly. He heard no answer, so he turned the brass knob and eased the door open, poking his nose around the edge to peer into the darkness within. She was asleep again, so he had not lied to Bull, after all. He crept in and stood there for a moment, trying to sift through his feelings of what he wanted to do and match them to something that he _could_ do. Finally, he pulled out a sheet of parchment and a quill from her modest writing desk, dipping it in the ink from the bottle that was left out and open.

_Autumn,_

_Firstly, I would like to say that I am glad you are recovering, and relieved that nothing happened to you. We would be lost without you, for more reasons than just your mark. I hope you know how much you mean to all of us._

_Secondly, I know you don't want to talk about it, and I hope I am not being too forward by suggesting this, but if you ever need to discuss the things you saw, or what happened to you in the “future”, I am here to listen. I can offer little more than an understanding ear, but sometimes that is all that it takes to take the edge off the nightmares that linger._

_I wish you a speedy recovery._

_Sincerely,_

_-Cullen Rutherford_

He hesitated on the signature for a moment, trying to decide if he should write “ _Commander Cullen_ ” or just _“Cullen”,_ or his full name. Eventually he settled on his full name, keeping it from sounding too personal while also not mistakenly placing it in the category of a missive or report. He blew on the ink lightly to help it dry, setting her things back where he had found them. Then he folded the paper and set it down on the table next to her bed, where she would hopefully see it.

She shifted in her slumber, small worry lines forming on her forehead. She was adorable when asleep, with no shield of humor and sarcasm to hide her face behind. She seemed so open and fragile. This time, Cullen could not seem to control himself. He leaned down, brushed her hair away from her face, and planted the lightest kiss he could manage on her forehead. She smiled and sighed.

“Finally...” she mumbled, so deeply asleep that he could not mistake it for recognition.

He was puzzled, his curiosity over what the Herald of Andraste must dream of making the tips of his ears burn, but he could not bear to stay any longer, fearing he would lose more control than he already had. He could never do that when she was awake, but he knew that this memory, and the feeling of her skin under his lips, was going to linger with him for a long time.

Cullen left again, and this time made it all the way back to his tent. He was full of frustration and a keen, forlorn sense of loss as he looked at his empty cot. It was colder in his tent that he could remember it being in some time, and he shivered. That shiver turned into a full blown tremor within moments, and he sat down on his cot as his limbs trembled. A headache roared its way through his head, and he closed his eyes, seeing blurs of blue and red as the world swayed around him into chaos. He clamped his hands together in front of him, pressing his fingers into one another as hard as he could, until his knuckles turned white, but still the quaking continued.

Tears worked their way out of the corner of his eyes and slid down his cheeks. He tried to remember what she smelled like, what she felt like, in a vain effort to keep the withdrawal episode at bay. Still it came, and wracked his body as it always did in the shadows of the night, where no one could see his slow tumble towards death.

Autumn was resting peacefully, but Cullen would receive no such boon on this night.

***

It was fucking _cold,_ but Faren would have happily traded his jacket away for a minute of reprieve from Roland’s unstoppable complaining. He hadn’t expected the former mercenary to view the new assignment as such an inconvenience, but Roland usually found ways to make whatever plan he was involved in sway to the opposite direction of what those around him anticipated. His mabari, Laurel, was in higher spirits, and Faren let the sound of Roland’s voice drift to the back of his head as he watched the hound leap into a snow drift, emerging from the other side as a streak of glittering white powder and broken branches. Laurel bounded past Bria, his second choice for this new job, who turned her head only slightly to watch the dog go by.

Bria was being blissfully quiet, but then she always was. The elven rogue had never spoken a word in the time that Faren had known her, but after she had saved his ass from a swift end at the hands of an arrow he had never needed her to. She was draped in dark clothing, with a gauzy white cloth tied around her face so that only her eyes peered out from between the soft folds. They were slanted eyes, and large, in line with that of her people, and Faren had always been mesmerized by their curious color, which was a soft lavender with emerald green blooming from the iris. She was tall, and the thinnest person he had ever met, and she seemed to weigh nothing at all when she moved, because she made no sound and never disturbed a thing by her passing. If he hadn’t seen her kill he might not be convinced she was real, so much did she resemble a shadow. She was a beautiful flower of night, whose petals were deadly for those that failed to notice her before they blindly crossed her path.

Roland, on the other hand, was so far from anything that could be considered graceful or beautiful that he had passed into the realm of parody. He was tall, and had a square frame that made him look like a solid block of ill-proportioned muscle. He had a gut that bulged beneath the ties of his belt, and a face that he often joked no even his mother had been able to love. His hooked nose and forever chapped lips were placed amidst pockmarked and oily skin, and his black hair was cut in an uneven crop that curled and stuck up straight at strange angles at once. He was also loud, and lazy, but Faren and Bria knew him to be fiercely loyal, and when his friends called he never failed to come running, for whatever the reason.

“I can’t believe you dragged me out here in the middle of the night. _And_ you got me reassigned from the best job in the Inquisition. I was the horse guard. Do you know what kind of trouble horses get into? _Fuckall,_ that’s what.” Roland spit a glob of something unsavory into the snow at their feet, and even Laurel avoided the spot with a soft whine as they walked past.

Faren rolled his eyes, puffing as the cold and the exertion of the trek made his lungs feel starved for breath. “I don’t think the job is about keeping the horses in line.”

Roland stopped and turned, looking down at Faren with mock awe. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t realize I was talking to the Lord of Horses! Forgive me, my liege!”

“Fuck off.” Faren shoved the taller man out of the way and worked his way through a patch of brush ahead of them, his footsteps chased by Roland’s laughter.

Faren scanned the area, squinting as he tried to see across the dark, snow covered mountainside. They should have run into Harding by now. He had made sure to mark the meeting place earlier in the day, to confirm that he had the location right before he dragged Bria and Roland out in the middle of the night. He wanted to do this right, and he wanted to make sure that Harding was impressed with his planning. Of course, he hadn’t accounted for the possibility that Harding wouldn’t show, and as he stared at the empty woodlands around them, he wasn’t quite sure what to make of his absence.

“You’re doing the thing again.” Roland was looking at Bria, who was currently balancing on a branch just out of reach of Laurel, who was salivating as she tried to clamber after the elf. Bria looked back at Roland, her eyes shining in the dark with more than moonlight, and she shrugged. Faren saw the corner of her cheeks lift, and he knew she was smiling, though they couldn't see her mouth. Roland scowled. “Don’t give me that nonsense and pretend you’re innocent. You’ve put bacon in your pockets again, haven’t you? You can’t have my dog! She’s been mine since she was a runt of a pup and I named her after my own mum. Lay off!”

Bria tossed her long, amber ponytail over her shoulder, sticking her chin up in the air as she turned away and bounced to another branch, landing lightly enough that the twigs connected to the larger limb barely moved. The wood creaked slightly as she settled her weight, kneeling down so that she could rest and drop a tidbit of something from her pocket down to Laurel, who snuffled at it happily once it hit the ground. As Faren watched the world settle into stillness around them, however, he noticed that the faint creaking and rustling of leaves stopped about a second or two after the elf’s perch had stopped moving. Which told him that her movement was not what had made the sound.

“Faren, is meeting in the middle of a woods a dwarf thing? I would have thought you lot would have picked a cave or some -” Roland’s voice was like a thunderclap as Faren strained to listen for other sounds, and he forestalled any further complaints from his friend by clamping a hand over his mouth. Roland’s words muffled against his palm for a moment before he finally fell silent, taking the cue from Bria who had dropped to the ground and was crouching, one hand on her bow in case it needed to be drawn. The tips of her ears had tilted outward as she waited to hear what Faren had.

They heard a single branch snap, somewhere to the left, marring the silence with a finality that ended the presumption that Harding hadn’t shown. Then, out from the depths of the darkest shadows between the trees and the thickets, a horde of arrows came soaring at them, a flock of angry birds descending down from skies of black tarred clouds. Roland started yelling something violent and unintelligible as the projectiles found their targets, pelting them all over. The tips of the arrows had been wrapped in leather and padding, so they didn’t piece the skin, but Faren felt thick welts swell up wherever they made contact, and in places he could already see the violet and purple of vicious bruises beginning to form.

They covered their heads as best they could and began running for cover, darting under branches and out of the way of more arrows, that seemed to be flying from every direction. They ran under the onlsaught for several minutes before Faren saw Laurel and Bria duck behind the cover of a large rock formation, curved against the mountainside so the arrows couldn’t find their battered flesh any longer. Faren grabbed Roland’s collar and tugged them in the same direction, making a diving roll into the safe haven as pillowed arrows smashed into the ground behind him. The three of them braced their backs against the stone, panting and exhausted, bones stinging from countless impacts. He glanced at his companions, and noted that Bria had a black eye, and Roland was cradling his arm with a bright bruise forming along the wrist. Laurel seemed relatively unscathed, and had brought one of the arrows with her and was gnawing on the leather wrapping.

“That was pretty useless.” An amused voice drifted down to them from atop the boulder, and the looked up as one to see Harding looming over them, hands on her hips. “I think we heard you coming all the way from Haven, and you kind of collapsed like sacks of feed when the attack started. You sure you want a stick with your choices for partners, Faren?”

He looked at his friends, and the grins that they gave him cemented his choice more firmly than should have been possible. “Positive.”

Harding laughed and shook her head. “Never a dull day for the scouts. Alright, then. We have a lot of work to do, and not a lot of time to do it. Catch your breath and meet me in the clearing again, this is gonna be a long night.” She hopped of the other end of the rock and out of sight, and Faren stood, dusting snow and dirt off of himself with shaking hands.

“Still want to go guard horses?” he asked Roland.

The mercenary cuffed him across the ear. “Fuck you, this is way more interesting. Remind me to buy a drink, and also punch you for each one of these fucking bruises. Flissa is _never_ going to bed me now.”

Bria rolled her eyes before sauntering off into the direction of the clearing, Laurel padding along behind her. Faren clapped his friend on the back, smiling broader than he had in months. “What are you talking about? Women love scars.”

They made their way back to Harding, and prepared for the real work to begin.

 


	11. Paragon of Manliness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Kirkwall crew has a secret penpal club.

_To My Paragon of Manliness,_

_It was good to hear another update from you. I thought after a hole opened up in the sky it would have sucked you in for sure. Good to see the dwarves in Orzammar are still wrong about that._

_I wish that I could say I was staying out of trouble, but you know me. Things have not been going smoothly on my end. A. is having a lot of issues with J. He is getting upset that A. no longer listens to him, keeps trying to come back out. I am handling the situation for now, but we are getting desperate for leads. J. only has but so much respect for me, and I don't know how much longer it will be useful in negotiating with him._

_I would love to meet the fade guy. You still insisting I stay as far away as possible? I could be there fairly quickly if you promise not to shoot me on site “for my own good”._

_Although maybe close the hole in the sky before I start trying to barge in. I don't think I want to be that close to the fade...ever._

_Also, consider Daisy rightly reprimanded, she was giving them whole cheese sandwiches. Can you imagine? Sometimes I have no idea where she comes up with this stuff._

_Also you are absolutely a filthy, filthy liar. I won't believe Curly has a sweetheart until I see it with my own eyes._

_I sent a letter to Fen and Iz. I’m demanding if they’re sending smutty artwork I should get first rights. It’s very rude not to share._

_Oh, before I forget, I got a letter from Chantry Boy. Would you even believe it if I told you he apologized? For only half the stuff he said, but it was still a pretty big shocker. A. burned the letter, I don't think he was pleased. Apparently calling me an “abomination sucking whore” is an unforgivable offense._

_Anyhow, I must be going, but hopefully when you are done saving the world or whatever we can meet up and get some drinks._

_Love,_

_Your favorite troublemaker,_

_L._

_***_

_V._

_I wanted to send you my own note, because we haven't been able to talk in awhile. I miss the days when we could all sit and watch Curly lose all his money to Iz._

_I'm really happy to hear about him again. I'm also really happy it sounds like he forgave you. Try not to tease him too much about his crush, you know you'd scare him off._

_Keep a good eye on him, too. If he quit the templar order I would wager he stopped taking Lyrium as well, because Curly never did anything half way. It can be deadly. I have enclosed a recipe for an herbal tea that is supposed to help with the symptoms. I'm sure you might be able to get him to take it if you don't tell him it's from me._

_I wish I could tell you to say hi to Leliana for me, but I'm not sure if she thinks I'm a monster or not, or even remembers me. Funny how many people are with her on that list._

_Stay safe, V. I would hate to find out this new outfit you joined made you a martyr._

_Sincerely,_

_The worlds friendliest abomination,_

_A._

_PS L. is making me write this postscript to apologize for sounding bitter. Know that I write the apology with the least amount of sincerity possible. I will be as bitter as I like, thank you very much._

_(_ scrawled in a different hand, below the postscript _):_

_Sorry V., I won't let him get into the quill and ink again since he's just going to be so surly._

_***_

_V,_

_Got your message about joining. Will think about it. My wife does not approve._

_Tell Curly I say hi._

_Iz is requesting more smutty novels. Please don't comply._

_Sincerely,_

_Fen_

_***_

_V,_

_Broody is going to tell you not to send me smutty novels, but don't listen to him. I live for your filthy words!!_

_Also, I maybe told Kitten that crows loved sandwiches and H. says I need to apologize for that._

_Also also stop trying to recruit my husband. He is part of my crew now, get your own surly elven sex god. Besides, we are quite busy corrupting a former templar trainee, and just knowing how much that would piss off Chantry Boy makes me giddy. So you can’t have my giddy. You need two piece of corruption bread to make a rebellion sandwich, after all._

_Please tell Curly that his money misses him, and that I am doing my best to keep it company. And make sure you wink at him when you say it. And if you could grow tits and shake them at him that would be good too._

_With love,_

_Admiral Iz, the greatest T and A on the seas!_

_***_

_Varric,_

_Am I allowed to write your whole name? I can't remember. I'm not very good at this am I?_

_Hawke says I can't feed the crows sandwiches. Izzy said I should try to make little hats for them instead, that it would make them happy. I am starting to think she is teasing me. What do you think?_

_Aveline wanted me to tell you hello. Her crow is sick and cannot send messages. She says it was because of the sandwiches but I think it might be because she never gives it any kisses._

_Oh! I found a kitten the other day and it made me think of...well, I definitely can't write his name, can I? He used to have a cat, though, right? Anyways, the little guy really likes to bat at the cards when I try to teach the clan wicked grace, so I named him Varric the Second, I hope you don't mind too terribly. I think he is a lot like you, if you were a cat. He doesn't have chest hair, though. Well, I suppose fur counts. He has chest fur. But also fur everywhere. I'm writing too much again, aren't I?_

_Please tell Cullen I miss him, and that I hope he still plays cards. I have been practicing to help him win!_

_Love,_

_Merrill_

(this letter ends with a series of hearts and flowers drawn across the bottom of the page along with a kitten wielding an oddly drawn crossbow)

 


	12. Perhaps the Commander Might Oblige?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Autumn disapproves of Leliana's tactics and Cassandra approves of that.

It had been postponed for as long as they were able, but despite Autumn’s injuries there was still a great deal of business that needed to be attended to, and so as soon as she had regained enough consciousness to be considered sensible, a meeting had been called to her quarters. She knew that they would have preferred to conduct it in the war room, but as she was presently ordered to bed rest by a lot of very stern and obstinate people, they had little choice but to convene at her beside.

Leliana, Cullen, and Josephine perched themselves on chairs surrounding her bed, while Autumn was propped up on so many pillows that she felt Orlesian. They each had stacks of paper that they shuffled as they searched for the things they needed to bring up, all three of them relaying a great many things that were vital and important for the coming days. She had returned with the help they had needed, horrible injury aside, and so now they had to plan their assault on the hole in the sky. As they went over possible strategies and plans, Autumn felt her head spinning, and a tight, fierce ball of dread was building itself up in her stomach with each passing minute. All she could think of was the horrible pain from the first time, and the bones in her hand ached as the memory replayed over and over again in her mind.

“Now, “ Leliana’s tone snapped Autumn out of her unpleasant reverie. “We should go over the information that I garnered from Alexius during our interrogation. While he did not offer us a great deal of information, I was able to learn that this group that he represented seems to worship their leader, and they have a fanatical level of devotion to him. They believe that it was he who was somehow responsible for the breach, though I was not able to learn how. We can guess that the group is based out of Tevinter based on the members we have seen up to this point, but I am very sorry to report there is very little else that I know. Alexius was stubbornly resistant to my…techniques.” Leliana scowled, fury flashing in her narrowed eyes.

“Good, so a club from the Imperium fucked up some magic, and now they’re after me because I can un-fuck it. Wonderful.” Autumn sighed heavily. This was beginning to push her past the point of her coping capabilities. The pain, the stress, the responsibility…it weighed on her shoulders, pressing her into the ground until she felt small, no larger than a grain of sand beneath the world’s boot. Why was she at the center of all this? What did this cult want with her, with this thing on her hand, and the hole in the sky? “Maybe I should talk to Alexius, try to reason with him. Or barring that, maybe while he is spewing obscenities at me he might also reveal something useful.” She offered. Perhaps she could even have Dorian come with her, and use their association to their advantage. If Dorian was willing, of course.

Leliana’s eyes flew to Cullen, and they shared a worried glance between them before she responded, choosing her words carefully. “That...will not be possible. He has not yet recovered from the previous interrogation.”

Autumn sat up straight in her bed, anger rolling through her. “What does that mean?”

“The injuries he sustained will prevent him from being questioned again for some time.” Leliana’s words were clipped, each one being forced out of lips that Autumn could tell desperately wanted to hide the truth.

“ _We_ injured him?” He had been alive and in good health when he had arrived at Haven. Dorian had even went to see him a few times in his cell, though the mage had said the man wasn’t very receptive to rekindling their old friendship. Autumn had trusted her advisors with his care, trusted that he would remain that way. Surely the Inquisition was not sink so low?

“I did what I had to do to get information from him.” Leliana’s voice was cold ice, snapping through the air as she braced herself for the argument that she knew was coming. She had known this argument was coming the moment she had touched him.

“Herald,” Cullen began, but Autumn tossed her feet over the edge of the bed, standing up and slamming a fist into the nightstand beside her bed.

“Do not call me that right now. I do not want to be called Herald after what I’ve just learned .” she ignored the hurt look on his face before turning her rage towards Leliana. “You did not _have_ to hurt the man. How was he _injured_?” her voice was shaking with rage. She was responsible for this, for bringing him here. Maker, if he had died his blood would have been on her hands. How could she have looked Dorian in the eye and told him that the people he had just pledged his services to had killed his former friend in the name of _information?_

“It's not important. I got what we needed from him, and that's all that matters.” the spymaster stood straighter, glaring at Autumn. She had known that Autumn would disapprove and had kept this from her on purpose. How many people had this happened to? How much of the information that Leliana provided was paid for with blood and pain? Autumn felt her stomach roll and bile rise in the back of her throat.

“It _is_ important. If you want me to help you, to continue working with the Inquisition, I will not see it fall to the same tactics the other side would gleefully use on any one of us.”

“We do not have the luxury for such softhearted morals. There are lives that depend on us, lives that are at stake and the information we obtain can mean the difference between a disaster or a victory!”

“You didn’t even learn anything new! How many times did he have to repeat the same things before you let him rest? Or did he pass out before you relented?” Autumn was breathing heavily, and she could feel pain spreading out from her wound again, something thick and warm sinking into the bandages from between loosened stitches.

“I do what is necessary. I have _always_ done what is necessary. I have been the hand that hides in the shadows for the Divine for years, and I will not provide the Inquisition less than I would provide for her. I - ”

Leliana's voice was reaching a fevered pitch before Josephine interrupted.“Please, everyone, let's just calm down...”

“ _No_.” Autumn's voice was firm. She was not in charge here. She couldn’t command Leliana to use more humane tactics, she couldn’t ask that she step down, nor could she provide someone to take her place. But she could control herself, and her own actions, and she would use that as the only card she had to play. “That is the same argument weak people always make, that they can't have morals and compassion, that there's no time to keep their own fucking humanity. One person's dirty hands can save thousands, right? It's all worth it in the end?” she felt tears prickling her eyes, and she reached up to swipe them away with a vicious motion. “The Inquisition cannot be _that_ , cannot be that callous towards human life...no matter who it is. Swear to me, right now, that you will not employ torture on anyone else, or so help me I will leave and you will never see me again.”

The three advisors were staring at her, mouths hanging open and surprise on their faces. Josephine looked to be on the verge of tears, her hands clasped together anxiously. Leliana was staring at Autumn, a strange expression on her face, guilt brewing in her stormy eyes. Cullen ducked his eyes from her, avoiding her gaze.

Then he cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “She's right. We are... _should_ be better than that.”

Leliana sighed, and Autumn saw the tension drain from her. “Very well. I counsel against it, but if you insist I will not use such...tactics in the future.” The hint of a tear glittered in the corner of her too-bright eyes, and Autumn knew that she had struck a chord within her. It was what she had wanted, what she had _needed_ to do, but it still pained her to see Leliana in such turmoil. She had known the spymaster for very little time, but her letters were always full of humor, and she had always been fiercely devoted to their cause. Autumn didn’t know what she had gone through as the Left Hand of the Divine, but if that had been the work that had put such a dark, angry streak into the woman’s soul, then Autumn could only feel sorry for her.

“I believe we are done for the day.” Josephine stood, her voice trembling as she clutched her clipboard to her chest. Still, she spared a moment to smile at Autumn, as genuine as ever. “I will be in my office, should you need me please don’t hesitate to send for me.” Then the ambassador turned on her heel, her shoes clicking as she swept out of the room.

Leliana stood and turned to leave with a curt bow, walking across the room at a pace just short of a run. Before she reached the door, however, she seemed to think better of it, and she turned, walking back until she was standing directly in front of Autumn.

“I’m sorry.” Then she turned and made it through the door, a blast of cold air punctuating her exit.

Autumn sagged back into her bed, grateful now that it was there, and put her head in her hands. She was trying to fight it, but the tears were rolling down her cheeks anyways. Cullen stood and walked to her bedside, placing a hesitant hand on her shoulder.

“You knew?” she asked, her voice a soft murmur, not looking at him.

“Only after.” he said. That was a relief. Thinking he had been complicit, had helped hide it from her, had been making the whole thing worse. She reached her hand up and placed with his, twining their fingers together lightly.

“Thank you, for supporting me.” she gave his hand the smallest amount of pressure. He stood there like that for some time, not saying anything while she cried silently, wishing she had not been such a naive fool.

He cleared his throat, and she could feel his eyes on her even though she refused to look up. “Thank you for being so....you.” then turned on his heel and left her alone. She wiped at her burning eyes and sniffed, taking a deep breath before looking down at her stomach, which was a mass of fire and pain. She lifted the edge of her shirt and saw blood dampening the cotton wrap securing her middle, and she let her head collapse backwards on the pillow and grimaced.

She summoned the guards stationed outside and asked that they bring in the healer. The poor boy looked terrified out of his mind, but he obeyed readily enough, and rushed off to find Adan. She took another bracing breath, shaking off the last of the anger and the tears, letting a layer of numb uncaring setting back onto her shoulders. She had just torn her stitches screaming at her advisor, but she wouldn’t think about it any longer. For now, she would focus on healing, as she was sure would be recommended to her by her many overly protective friends. Thinking about that, however, made her groan louder than the pain had.

Solas was going to lecture her again for this, she was sure of it.

***

Cassandra knocked on Autumn’s door and awaited her response as the snowfall steadily built mountains of white around her. She shivered, the wind dusting the back of her bare neck, and stamped her feet impatiently.

“Come in.” she heard from the other side. Cassandra turned the knob and entered, finding Autumn hanging over the edge of the bed upside down, her little nose in a book. She had been wrapped in new layers of bandages that were thicker and sturdier than her previous fare, and Adan had taken the extra, exasperated precaution of wrapping bandages on the _outside_ of Autumn’s thin sweater to make the dressing even more stable. Autumn smiled at Cassandra, her eyes showing no hint of the trials she had been through in the brief time they had known one another. Cassandra had been particularly worried about the Herald after the confrontation in the meeting earlier that afternoon, which everyone had heard due to its volume.

“Cass!” Autumn flipped over so she was no longer upside down, her curls akimbo as she winced from the sudden movement. “Have you read any of Varric's books? This one about the guard captain is incredible!” she waved the tome towards Cassandra, who held up her hand to decline.

“I am sure whatever he writes is perfectly...acceptable.” she grimaced. She had no interest anyone becoming aware that she had read that specific book at least a dozen times. Not only would she be mortified, but she couldn’t stand the idea of Varric finding out, mostly so she didn't give him the satisfaction.

“Oh, well...” Autumn shut the book and set it by her bedside, a wrinkle forming above the bridge of her nose. “Can I help you?” she gestured to the stools that had been moved to her room, and Cassandra nodded her thanks and sat.

“I just wanted to say...” how would she put this? She had heard about what Autumn had done in the meeting. Most people had _heard,_ in fact, though Cassandra had missed that first hand experience. It had been related to her, however, in increasingly stranger detail throughout the day, and while she didn’t believe half of the things she had heard, what she did believe needed to be addressed. Cassandra had not known that Leliana was torturing people for information, but she wasn't sure that if she had known she would have stopped her. She had a moral compass whose point had been led by the chantry for her entire life, and that compass taught that the ends justified the means. The chantry often employed brutal and violent tactics in the name of the greater good. But Cassandra didn’t share that belief in her heart. She _knew_ that some of the things the chantry did were wrong, which was part of why she was able to walk away from her position in the Seekers the way she had. She needed answers and guidance that the chantry was not able to provide. Still, with all the lives that hung in the balance of their care, Cassandra was not sure she would have seen the folly in torturing a man she considered guilty of evil. Autumn had seen, though. She had stood tall and demanded justice, _real_ justice, even for those that didn't deserve it. It took a special kind of person to do that, and Cassandra wanted to let her know that.

“You heard about the meeting, didn't you?” Autumn's eyes grew downcast, and Cassandra saw her feelings written plainly across her face.

“Yes.” she replied curtly.

“I'm sorry if you don't agree, I just...I can't...” her eyes were too bright, and it broke Cassandra’s heart to see it.

“No, no, I _do_ agree!” she closed the distance between them with a few long strides, kneeling before Autumn and taking her hand so that she couldn’t miss what she had to say. “I don't know that I would have seen things so clearly, but I wanted to thank you. If it hadn't been for you, we might have...continued down that path. I think we would have regretted it, in the end, and I just wanted you to know that I respect what you did.” She smiled up at her, a wry grin spreading across her lips. “It is not often that you meet someone with the courage to stand up to Leliana.”

Autumn smiled sadly. “We should be more than that. _She_ is more than that.”

“You have a stronger moral compass than all of us, but I am grateful for that.”

“No, I just...” she sighed. “I’ve seen what torture can do to a person. My brother’s friends, the templar near where we lived, would often employ those kinds of… _tactics_ when they interacted with mages.” Her voice filled with venom as she spoke. “It broke the people they were charged with protecting, but never once did it give them anything that was worth that kind of pain. Even when it was justified, when there was real danger that they were trying to stop and they weren’t just being cruel…they never did any good with the pain they caused. I remember hearing their screams for hours at a time, and just wishing that everything would stop…”

“I'm so sorry...I didn't know.” Cassandra cleared her throat, finding it hard to swallow as she listened to Autumn give the unneeded explanation. She knew so little about this woman, but she had obviously not had an easy life. Rage pulsed through her on Autumn's behalf, on behalf of the system that she had been apart of, a system that was being torn down from the corruption that seethed within it. Autumn didn’t deserve to be haunted by the screams of tortured mages. Those mages, matter what they had been guilty of, had not deserved what had been dealt to them. The more that Cassandra lived in this world, the more she could understand why the Maker would abandon them to rot in the cesspool of their own making.

“It's fine, not many people do. I don't talk about it much. Or ever at all, if possible.” she shrugged and tried to smile again, but the gesture didn't quite dispel the darkness in her eyes.

“Listen, I do not say it as often as I should, but I appreciate all that you have done for us. For me. You didn't have to step up the way you did, especially after the way I have treated you…but you have done an admirable job nonetheless. I needed you to know that before we march on the breach.”

“You mean before I die trying to seal it?” her voice was light, but Cassandra saw the seriousness underneath the joke and felt a stab of guilt. They asked so much of her already, and yet still they demanded more.

“I will do everything within my power to ensure that does not happen. Besides, there are more than a few of your companions here that might leap into the fade to drag you back out again, should you attempt to perish without their permission.”

Autumn laughed, and Cassandra breathed a small sigh of relief that some of the shadows were lifting from her friend’s eyes. “You're probably right. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve people like you.”

“People who forced you to join a ridiculous, rebellious organization after imprisoning your comatose form?”

“No,” she laughed again and winced as it jostled her wound. “People who have the grace and dignity to change their actions when they realize they were wrong. We did not have the easiest of starts, but I now count you among my closest friends Cass. Never doubt that.”

Cassandra blinked back the sudden bout of tears that threatened to break the wall of stern discipline she kept on around her expression. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.” Autumn smiled, and then flexed her hand, frowning at the pulsing mark in her palm. “No if I could just find a good hand masseuse I would have everything I could possibly need.”

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps the Commander might oblige?” she laughed as the suggestion elicited a blush from her victim. The two thought they were very sneaky with their infatuation, or perhaps they were simply oblivious, but Cassandra was sure that just about everyone saw what was between them.

Autumn got a malicious glint in her eye. “Only if you promise to read Varric's books.”

Cassandra’s jaw fell open and she felt the heat on her cheeks like a sudden sunburn while Autumn collapsed in a fit of giggles, holding her stomach.

“You...you cannot suggest...” she wanted to protest further, but seeing the joy on the other woman's face made her give in. “I have already read all of Swords and Shields, and I read Tale of the Champion as well.” She glared at the floor furiously as Autumn continued her relentless tittering. “If you tell him anything I will speak to you again only long enough to lop your head off.” She said darkly, her brow creasing together in the most formidable scowl she could muster.

Autumn wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Relax, your secret’s safe with me. Although now you have to make sure you never perish in battle. You die, I'm telling him everything.”

Cassandra laughed and nodded. “Deal.”

 


	13. I Miss Your Smirk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Autumn is very bad at recovery and Cullen has trouble watching her go.

_Cullen,_

_Stop smirking_

_-Autumn_

 

_Autumn,_

_stop tearing your stitches._

_-Cullen_

 

_Cullen,_

_Where are the reports on my druffalo?_

_-Autumn_

 

_Autumn,_

_Unlike some people, I am actually busy. You will have to wait._

_-Cullen_

 

_Cullen,_

_I lie awake and despair at the fate of my poor baby druffalo. Surely you could spare some details?_

_-Autumn_

 

_Autumn,_

_Your “babies” are fine. Scar has taken a liking to Dennet. Dennet slightly disapproves._

_-Cullen_

 

_Cullen,_

_I fully expect you to defend my druffalo's tender sensibilities from that ruffian. In other news, Dorian would like you to know that he would be happy to show you proper druffalo riding techniques ABSOLUTELY any time._

_-Autumn_

 

_Autumn,_

_I think we all know there is only one person here who can properly ride a druffalo, and it isn't Dorian._

_You should truly get some rest so you can return to work. Your druffalo miss seeing you in the training yard everyday._

_-Cullen_

 

_Cullen,_

_I'm working on it. Solas says I am nearly well enough to get out of bed. I will surely make the training grounds my first stop when I am better._

_Yours,_

_Autumn_

 

_Autumn,_

_That is wonderful news._

_I look forward to seeing you._

_I find myself missing your presence in the war councils as well. Josephine can get downright stuffy sometimes, you were always able to lighten the mood._

_I trust your companions are keeping you in good company._

_Yours,_

_Cullen._

 

_Cullen,_

_I am so very bored. Varric has run out of stories that are interesting and if Solas tries to play another game of chess with me I might kill him. He tells me you play, however. We should set up a game one of these days. You just have to be a more interesting opponent._

_Dorian is far more exciting to talk to, but too smug by half. He has a delightful sense of humor though, I am sure the two of you would get along fantastically. (though maybe not as druffalo riders, perhaps)._

_I miss your smirk._

_Yours,_

_Autumn_

 

Autumn was an absolute terror while in recovery. She refused to stay in bed and rest, despite the numerous insistence from both the drove of healers assigned to her care and every one of her advisors and companions. She had gotten up and tried to sneak out at least four times that Cullen had heard of, two of the times tearing open her stitches and prolonging the process even more. On of those times she had nearly caught her death as she had been too weakened to get up after taking a tumble in the snow. When found she was blue and shivering, and very bitter that she had not been able to make a daring escape from what she kept proclaiming to be “death by boredom”. They had gathered her inner circle of Inquisition members together in an effort to try and keep her company, to prevent her from killing herself in her ill advised attempts to entertain herself. She had complained loudly about this, as she was too quick witted not to realize she was being put under guard to facilitate her recovery, but she had at least stopped trying to leap out the back window of her cottage, which they had all agreed was a marked improvement.

At some point during this process someone had put it in her head to start writing him notes, which would be delivered by Sera in various ways (usually an arrow). Each time Cullen received one he would read it, then stop whatever he was doing to pen a quick response. Then he would slip it under the door of her home whenever he had a chance to slip by, and it would be handed off to her by whomever was on shift to watch her at the time. He never went in, so he never got a chance to see her face, but he knew that his own was plastered with a goofy grin every time he received one. He was hopeful enough to imagine that she was reacting the same way.

They had started out simple enough. Single sentences teasing one another, barely enough words to justify the use of parchment that they occupied, but somewhere along the lines Cullen had found himself wanting to write more, to write down how much he missed seeing her face around the grounds all day. So he indulged himself, giving in to the impulse despite his better sensibilities setting off warning bells about the impropriety of it all. He wrote a few more words in a note, and then she would send back a handful more in her reply, and then before he knew it he was holding a note that said “I miss your smirk”, and he felt like his feet might lift off the ground, sending him floating away. He felt as though he could spend all day writing down all of the words he knew and never quite express what that simple phrase made him feel.

It was eternally unfortunate that he did not get a chance to go and see her. With the arrival of the mages Cullen had, in fact, been too busy to do much else than work, sleep, and when his stomach wasn't arguing with him, eat. He also spent a considerable amount of his time clenching all of his muscles to fend off the beginnings of a tremor, or hours hunched over his desk huddled above a cup of tea that Varric insisted was supposed to help with his headaches. He wanted to be able to stop by and say hello to her, for so many more reasons than to simply check on her health, but it was near impossible with the sheer amount of things he had to do. It was tempting several times to blow off his duty to go talk to her, to tell her exactly how much her little notes brightened his day, but something urgent always came up before he got the chance. It was maddening.

So the days slipped along into the evenings, and the evenings faded into night, and he would glance at the horizon and wonder how many times he would have to watch the sun set before he could see her.

It was a cold, brisk morning when that finally happened, and his heart was wrapped in chains as he slapped a stoic mask onto his face. He walked out to the gates of Haven, keeping his shoulders back, focusing on the strength that he needed to put into each one of his footsteps. He did not, no matter how much he wanted to, break into a smile when he saw her astride one of master Dennet’s best horses, her hair tossed in the wind against her soft face. They didn’t speak, because they couldn’t. She was merely yards away, but in that moment it could have been miles, so out of his reach that he couldn’t understand how to impart all the things that he wanted to say to her.

Her eyes still managed to find his. Around the clamor of people all begging for her attention before she set out, she still looked to the gates until she found him. They didn’t smile, but shared cursory nods that did little more than to let each other known they were in accord. He could see in her eyes all the fear she could never admit to feeling, all the trepidation and the hesitation over what was to come later in the day. This was what they had brought her for, this was what they had been working towards. They should both be feeling triumphant, and strong.

As Cullen watched her ride off with a battalion of mages in tow, he didn’t feel either of those things. He felt terrified. Terrified that they would fail, and all of their work would be for nothing. Terrified that something would happen to her, and he would be too far away to do anything about it. Terrified that he would never get to see her again. There were so many things that had been left unsaid. So many things that had been thrown to the wayside because of duty, because they had more important things to concern themselves with.

With his troops gone with her, he should have been planning their next moves and helping to bolster their defenses. He should have been strategizing with Leliana and Josephine. Much like himself, however, as well as the rest of those left behind in the town, the other advisors found themselves unable to work. Instead, they watched the skies, anxiously waiting to see a change in the great green mass that loomed over their lives.

Cullen gazed towards the heavens, and tried to quell the sense of loss he felt at not being there by her side.

 


	14. Today we Make History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Autumn plugs the hole in the sky...again.

Faren was not a tall man. It came with the territory when one was born a dwarf. He had never let his stature get in his way before, however. He had always felt as large as he needed to be, and never really let the vastness of the sky intimidate him they way it had other dwarves.

The breach made him feel small, however. As he gazed straight up into the green eye of madness broiling over their heads, he felt infinitesimal. He felt insignificant, and weak, and that his doom was assured in the presence of this monolith to danger and despair. It was doom that they were all marching towards, and they felt it in the thrum of magic that hissed through the air and the rumble of hoof beats from the horses who stamped anxiously on the ground. Bria and Roland were both silent next to him as they scouted around the fringes of the main marching party, tasked with the job of making sure no danger could approach their Herald unseen.

She was their main focus. She was everyone’s main focus, and Faren couldn’t help but steal glances at her as she rode at the head of the procession. They had shined her armor, and bedecked her horse in battle wear, and so she made an inspirational figure as she sat tall in the saddle, the sun glinting off her hair like she were living fire. She was a slip of a woman, but in this moment she looked so much larger. Large enough to make him feel like she was bigger than the breach, like she was _more_ than the destruction above then, and she had a chance at saving their lives.

The mass of people filed into the crater that was once the Temple of Sacred ashes, and Faren took up position with Bria and Roland at the top of a rocky ledge, giving them a vantage point that provided a clear line of sight to everything within the bowl. He could see other scouting groups huddled around the rim of the area, each of them tasked with guarding the perimeter so that this moment could not be interrupted.

Autumn reached the center of the area and dismounted from her horse, and a thick hush settled over the soldiers and mages and scouts crowded around her. She held the reigns of her horse as she turned to face them all, and Faren saw no sign of weakness as she surveyed the people that had followed her to the brink of the void.

“Thank you.” When she spoke, her voice didn’t waiver, it didn’t shake as Faren’s would have were he in her place. She was confident, and collected, and full of enough bravery that those that stood behind her could not help but take heart.”Thank you all of you, for all of your hard work and dedication. Thank you for helping me get to this point, and thank you for putting up with me this far.” Her words carried over the silence, and there was a smattering of laughter at her words. “Today we make history. Today we plug a hole in the sky, and we make the Inquisition an organization made to right the wrongs in the world that nobody else has the stomach to face. You are the bravest men and women that Thedas has to offer, and you are part of something greater than all of us.” She turned and glared at the breach behind her for a moment before facing the crowd a final time. “Let’s save the world.”

The people, as one, cheered as she walked further from the crowd. Faren watched intently as Cassandra jogged after her, placing a hand on her shoulder. He was too far away to read the expressions on their faces, but he imagined that the warrior was congratulating the shorter woman. To the side Solas, Dorian, and Vivienne huddled in a circle conferring with one another. They remained that way for the span of a heartbeat before breaking apart. Dorian and Vivienne walked briskly to stand on either side of the crowd of mages as they formed linear ranks, assuming the positions they had been trained on over the past short weeks.

Solas paced the space in front of them, his feet finding delicate footholds across the rocky ground, and the sound of his staff thumping into the ground with each step soon filled the area as the throng of people grew steadily quiet once more. His voice was softer, and harder, than Autumn’s had been, but his instructions to the mages carried over to Faren across the heady quiet.

“Focus on the Herald, let your will feed into her own. Do not break concentration until the breach has been sealed or I have instructed otherwise.” The mages did not respond verbally, but Faren knew they had understood all the same. They had been running drills from the minute they had settled in at Haven. Solas, Vivienne, and Dorian had been driving them into the ground to get them prepared for this feat. To their credit, not one had complained about the work. It seems Autumn’s treatment of them had inspired a lot of goodwill towards her. They worked and sweat so that they could keep her safe when she did the impossible, when she did what only she could do.

Words had been spoken, orders given, and now all eyes turned back to the Herald, waiting for it to begin. It was hard to believe the moment was real. For Faren, he had walked headlong into this disaster expecting it to be something else entirely, and his path had been fraught with danger and unexpected turns. He had left Orzammar as nothing, and somehow he found himself here, watching the greatest moment in history unfold. He never expected to be part of something so much greater than himself, never expected to work under such influential people. He had heard tales of the Hero of Ferelden and the Champion of Kirkwall, heard about the people that helped them accomplish great deeds. Would people remember the Herald of Andraste and her burning hand? Would they remember how she fought the skies to save the world? And would they remember the people that stood behind her, propping her up because she made them believe that she would succeed?

Autumn looked to her companions, standing as close to her as they were able. They each nodded encouragement, each one providing all of the support that they could. She nodded in return, and then it began.

She turned and thrust her palm into the sky, and a jet of light shot out of her arm and connected with the breach above. Her scream could be heard over the buzz of magic and energy, and Faren’s heart stuttered at the sound. He could see her struggling, and watched with his breath driven out of his chest as she lifted her other arm and braced it against her elbow, fighting to keep the mark aloft and pointed where it needed to be. The mages balked at her cry of pain, hesitating at the very moment that they needed to stand firm, and the spell was not being cast. Solas rounded on them, and Faren could feel the fury within him without seeing his face.

“Cast, you fools!”

Dorian and Vivienne began the spell before the rest of the group, but they fell in line soon after as the spell built in energy, touching each of them and growing so that the air snapped with magic and power. Autumn began to glow as their focus narrowed to her, sending their aid where it needed to be the most. It wrapped around her like a shawl, cloaking her in vivid blue that sent forks of lightning up through the beam connected to the breach. Her screams stopped as the power found her, but Faren could see her knees threatening to buckle and her shoulders shaking as she fought against the pain.

Solas walked up to her, placing a hand on her arm. She turned to him, and twined her fingers with his own as he added his own magic to the spell.

A burst of mana poured out of her hand and shot up into the sky. The breach absorbed it, and then seemed to fold in on itself before a shockwave of green light reverberated out from the middle. Faren had to avert his eyes from the scene as the sky grew brighter, a thunderclap ringing in his ears as the light battered against them, harsh and violent against his unprotected eyes. When it faded, and he had blinked away the artifacts of blindness, there were clouds scarring the sky, but the breach was gone.

The thunderclap echoed until it was no more, and then all that was left was silence as they stared at the sky. Faren glanced down, and Autumn was leaning against Solas. She looked weak, but she was conscious, and seemed to be in one piece. There was a pause, where no one dared to move, or breathe, or think. Then Cassandra broke the stalemate by running towards the Herald and sweeping her out of Solas’ arms and into her own, swinging her in a massive hug. The world around him broke out into cheers as their victory was accepted as reality, and their leader was alive to hear their gratitude.

A contingency of scouts across the bowl, led by Charter, released a volley of ravens that flapped in ungainly arcs into the sky, their legs bearing the messages that would inform the world of their success. He watched them go until Roland smashed a fist into his back, sending him stumbling forward as the bigger man laughed amiably.

“This calls for a drink!” he produced a bottle of wine from within his coat and ripped the cork out with his teeth, spitting it out on the ground before taking a long pull from the bottle.

Bria danced forward on feet lighter than air and grabbed the drink from Roland, spilling wine down his chin as she did so. She pulled back the wrap around her mouth and drank herself, her lips smiling around the bottle. She swallowed, flashing Faren a rare smile before she tossed the bottle to him. He caught it and took a swig, savoring the sweet and bitter flavors as he looked up into a sky without a hole.

“Shit, that Herald really is something.” Roland mumbled, sounding respectful for once in his life. “What I wouldn’t give for one night alone -” Bria cuffed him across the back of the head before he could finish the thought, and Faren gave her a look of gratitude, which she responded to with a theatrical bow.

Over Roland’s shoulder, Faren caught the barest glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye. He took a step to the side, so that he could see around his taller friend. He saw a figure wearing hooded robes with flattened points on the back of their head disappearing around the corner of the ruins. It was so quick he couldn’t see who they were, but the robes they were wearing didn’t look familiar to him.

He was about to give chase when Harding came running up behind him. He spun to salute before he realized the bottle of wine was in his hands, so instead he held it out to her awkwardly. She stared at it questioningly for a moment, and Faren thought he had offended her in some way, before she shrugged and took it, taking a quick drink that made the tops of her cheeks turn red as she swallowed.

She looked at the bottle. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but I’m going to have to confiscate this. You guys drew the short straws, and you’re going to have to be on scouting duty tonight. We’ll be dropping you off at your posts on the way back.”

Bria slumped her shoulders as Roland audibly groaned. “You can’t be serious? The whole town is going to be having a party. Dancing! Food! Drunk women with lowered standards!”

Harding laughed. “Somebody has to do it. Don’t worry, I’m sure Charter can take your share of the women.”

Bria clapped Roland on the shoulder before giving him a big thumbs up, and the grizzled scout spat on the ground next to her. “Bloody elves.”

“Fine, we take watch, but somebody owes us a fucking party later.” Faren grabbed the wine and took another swig before Harding grabbed it back, knocking him on top of the head with the nearly empty bottle.

“Take it up with Nightingale then, I’m not your party planner.” She grinned as she spoke, but the threat of being forced to ask the spymaster for a party was a sobering enough proposition to end their arguments. Harding handed them a map with their patrol route before sauntering off with their celebratory drink in hand, tossing a nonchalant wave over her shoulder.

Roland and Bria began bickering over the map, and Faren let them have at it as he turned to stare at the spot where the robed figure had disappeared, wondering what a mage had been doing so far away from the others.

 


	15. Blessed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cullen receives word and Autumn is paraded home.

He had been pacing outside for hours before Leliana had finally ordered him indoors before he gave the horses anxiety. He had continued his incessant path from inside the war room, alternating between pacing and sitting irritably in one of the chairs around the war table, waiting for news to arrive. When the knock on the door finally came, Cullen yanked it open with such force he almost tore it off the hinges.

“Commander, word has come in from the temple,” the messenger stated, and in a rush continued before Cullen even had time to give him leave to speak, “The breach is sealed and our people are on their way home.” the soldier was breathless with excitement.

Cullen grabbed the mans shoulders, staring at him intensely. “And what of the Herald?”

“She lives, she is well!” he thumped his fist against his chest in salute as his eyes misted over.

Relief and joy flooded through him, swallowing him up in a wave that carried all the way to the smile on his face. She lived, she was well. Thank the Maker!

There was so much possibility spread out before him with this news. She would be safe, the mark could be healed, and the breach would no longer loom over their lives. He knew that she would not leave, that she would remain with the Inquisition even if the only reason was because the people looked up to her and had labeled her Herald. She hated the title, but she never let their men and women see that. It was only behind closed doors that she was simply Autumn, only around those she trusted. With her staying, perhaps Cullen could find the time to speak with her, to get the things he had been feeling off of his chest, to see if she might possible feel the same…

It was a ridiculous notion, impossible even. But the reports had come in, and they had fought against a gaping wound in the sky and _won,_ so perhaps with her there was no such thing as impossible.

***

The ride back would have been far more difficult for Autumn were it not for the brilliant foresight of her dear, dear friends. Solas had acted quickly after the breach was sealed, and had cast a spell that he insisted was experimental but worked like a charm. The burning in her hand and the ache in her bones had eased, sliding to the back of her mind like so much wind whistling through the trees. The alcohol produced by Varric and Dorian had done the rest of the job, and she was tossed onto Bull’s shoulders and handed bottle after bottle until the world spun for all of the right reasons and her pain was a distant memory. Her elation at succeeding followed her the whole way home, spreading through the ranks as the entire battalion became a celebratory parade. The experience had left her feeling uplifted and even brave. Maybe she was the person that all of these people believed her to be. Maybe she was more than what she felt about herself. For tonight, at least, she could pretend, and take heart in the fact that even though she wasn’t what these people deserved, she had still been able to do what they needed her to do.

Bravery was a heady drug, she decided. When they arrived back, she had been swept up in a crowd of overjoyed locals, crying out tributes to her name, to the Herald of Andraste. A small feast had been prepared in anticipation of their arrival, and drinks were passed around freely to all. Fires were lit and the people began dancing and enjoying unburdened happiness, now that death wasn’t looming over their shoulders in the sky above.

Autumn sat for a time with her team, letting Varric and Bull tell an awestruck crowd an overly embellished story of how the breach was closed. She rolled her eyes at Dorian and they snickered together at the two boys over exuberance, especially when Varric started insisting that she levitated at one point during the sealing process. Autumn couldn’t remember all of it clearly, due to the pain that it had caused her, but she was pretty sure flight was not one of her abilities. Eventually Bull was pulled away by a group of women, and he walked off with them laughing and tossing a wink over his shoulder at the rest of them.

Autumn cupped her hands on either side of her mouth to make her voice heard over the din around them. “Hey, don’t hurt yourself, we do still have demons to kill later!” She was glad to see him having fun though, as he had seemed a little melancholy since the trials they had faced in Redcliffe. Dorian seemed miffed once Bull had gone, and soon tried to excuse himself, mumbling something about being tired under his breath. Autumn raised her eyebrow at him, giving him a knowing look.

“You can take that snappy little eyebrow and stick it right up your salvation producing ass. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She feigned ignorance, placing her hand over her heart. “Why, Master Pavus, I didn’t say a word!”

“Yes, and all the words you didn’t say are leaking out of your eyeballs. So, I say once more with feeling: stuff it, please and thank you.” He flounced off out of the light of the fire, towards the tavern that was still serving alcohol as though they had an infinite supply. Flissa would be having fits tomorrow trying to replenish everything, but no one seemed bothered by that responsibility tonight.

Autumn let Dorian’s seemingly harsh words fade into the night, giggling slightly as she marveled over how red his face had become. It didn’t bother her one bit that he had been embarrassed. He had been teasing her about Cullen since they got back from the nightmare future, since Dorian was the only person in the present who remembered the scene in the torture cell. It was only fair that she get him back by teasing him about an apparent physical attraction to Bull that she could see under all his posturing and bluster.

Eventually the night started winding down, and she found herself pleasantly tipsy and sitting alone, watching others dance and sing as the fire cast an orange glow across their faces. The air hummed with the warmth from the fires meeting the cold wind coming off of the mountain tops. Thick, billowy clouds were rolling in, bringing what looked to be like a massive snowstorm, but people were unconcerned as of now, too busy enjoying their relief to be bothered.

A familiar smell drifted to her then, of leather, oils, and musk, and she knew Cullen had crept up on her while she wasn't paying attention. He sat down beside her, close enough that she could feel his warmth without making any direct contact. Her skin tingled all along her side, desperate to close the gap.

“I’m glad to see you have returned triumphant, my lady Autumn.” his voice was low. He was giving her that damned lopsided grin, because he seemed incapable of grinning any other way, and his eyes felt like they might burn holes straight through her.

“Well, was there ever any doubt? I _am_ blessed, you know. Something about Andraste, I think.” She giggled, giddy in her blasphemy and drink.

“I know a couple of druffalo who would certainly agree.” his voice was barely audible over the revelry of the nearby crowd, forcing her to lean close to hear him.

She laughed again, the action sending warmth flooding through her. “I’m afraid one can never count on the opinion of a druffalo, good ser. They are easily swayed by an apple and a soft voice.”

He hummed agreement with her. “True, true. I daresay men are not much more resistant to your charms, however. Although perhaps we make do without the apples.”

She had nothing to say to that, except to angle her body a little more towards him. Bravery was still running through her veins, bolstered by the liquid courage she had been drowning in since their success. She kept her eyes locked with his and allowed their knees to touch as they sat side by side. He held her gaze, eyes sparkling with mischief, cheeks rosy with drink.

His smirk abruptly transformed into a full smile. “My lady Trevelyan, I do believe you are drunk.”

“What? Never!” she hit him on the chest with the back of her hand in mock chastisement. “I am merely...taken by my own success at being the brave warrior who defeats holes in the sky.” She pumped a fist into the air dramatically.

He laughed heartily at that, a full body sound that made her wish she could capture it in a bottle and drink it whenever she was sad.

“I think you might be the drunk one, Commander Cullen.” She leaned in and whispered her words conspiratorially. Her face was inches from his now, so close she could smell his breath, a heady spread of warmth that made her want to close her eyes and inhale deeply. She resisted the urge because she wanted to keep her eyes on his.

He was leaning even closer to her, about to say something else, when the alarm from one of the gate guards sounded. Cullen leaped up and into action, racing to find out what was going on before she could absorb what the sound even meant. She sobered immediately, worry replacing the warm happiness that had just a moment ago been filling her to the brim. Of course something else was going wrong, she thought with rancor.

She was _blessed_ , after all.

 


	16. Trust Them With the Cause

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which celebration is cut short.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: My warning will CONTAIN SPOILERS, but here goes - there is mention of violence to animals. Laurel dies off screen. The violence is not described, and there are no details, but the character's react to her death and mention that she is dead. If you would like to read the chapter but skip this part, it happens in the 12th paragraph down, and is discussed for the next 5 paragraphs. After that, I don't believe it is mentioned other than in passing.

The skies had slowly filled with the heavy black of clouds overladen with snow, the atmosphere tinged with the promise of a blizzard that had not yet broken through. It had been nice to watch the stars before the storm had started rolling in, but Faren could at least still enjoy the distinctive lack of green above their heads. The night was blue, as it should be, and that return to normal made him feel safe and warm despite the wind picking at the tips of his ears with icy persistence.

Bria handed him the bottle of brandy and he brought it to his lips, filling his mouth with burning fire that spread throughout his blood until it turned into bliss. He smiled at her, sharing a look of triumph, one of many that the trio had been passing along with the alcohol all night. None of them could believe that they had done it, none of them could believe they had been a part of it. At least two of them had trouble believing Roland had brought a _backup_ bottle of celebration. Yet here they stood, tingling from head to toe with positivity.

“You know, all things considered, this patrol isn’t _so_ bad.” Roland grabbed the bottle, tipping it back to take a double share before belching loudly into the night. Laurel yapped at him happily in response before bounding off ahead of them, gleefully rushing through snow drifts and exploring the plant life around them.

“Nothing is bad tonight, my friend.” Faren pointed up to the sky. “ _We_ helped do that. You still bitter that you weren’t back guarding the fucking horses?”

“Fuck horses, I’m a bloody hero. My Pa would be so proud, if I actually knew who he was.” He chuckled, taking another drink before Bria ducked under his shoulder and snatched the bottle from him. She jumped over a fallen log, perching on the edge like a great bird as she smiled with her eyes back at them. She had a makeshift straw sticking out of the side of her mask, and she dipped it in the bottle in order to take her pull.

Faren had never felt more relaxed. He had never felt so accomplished, and he had never felt more like he belonged somewhere. He belonged with his friends, and their strange quirks. He belonged with the Inquisition, and its legendary heroes. He belonged above ground, where the stars could keep him company at night. Now, more than ever, was he sure that he had taken the right path in coming here.

Time seemed to pass slowly as the air grew thicker, the wind running down from the mountains carrying small bursts of ice that stuck to his beard as they made their way through the snow. There was more than the promise of a storm now as great flakes of white started dropping from above, threatening to increase as the night drew on. Faren didn’t pay any heed to the storm, however. He was as warm as he had ever been, and he looked onto the frigid peaks above them and dared them to try and freeze him out.

_He remembered her braids coming loose, Jarvia’s cheeks red as she laughed at his bravado. He had insisted that he could take the entire rival gang on his own, and had gone so far as to shout something to that effect out the window of the tavern, which was met with the resounding cheers of the other Carta members below. She had laughed at him, and looked at him with that strange expression she sometimes got._

_She had given him a warning, and he had laughed at her, and then forgotten the words when his life had been ripped from his hands because she had been done with him._

So much blood was between him and his past, between him and the memories of the people he had run with in Orzammar. He normally didn’t spare the energy to think about it, but something about looking at the dark and the stone and the oncoming blizzard made him remember. Maybe it was the frigid air that made him think of a frigid bitch.

_Never declare a challenge you don’t have the stones to take on._

From the darkness, thicker now that the snow was pelting the tree branches and marring the air, they heard Laurel’s low, pained whine. She cried out once, and then the silence filled the air like venomous fog, choking their ears and their throats as they strained to hear where it had come from.

Roland dropped the bottle of brandy, and it shattered in the snow. “Laurel?!”

_Silence._

“ _Laurel?!”_ Roland stumbled forward, loosing his footing on branches hidden beneath the white blankets, his cries being swallowed by the dark. “LAUREL?!” his voice cracked and his heart broke, panic filling his gaze so that he didn’t seem to see as he waded through snow drifts, trying to find the dog he had spent his entire life with.

His answer came in a spear of red, sailing from the depths of the shadows like a bolt of sick lightning, thrusting into Roland’s gut and driving him backwards. He fell, sinking into the deepening snow, and Faren saw the stains of blood that followed him, and the angry red glow from the shard of glass jutting up from his stomach. Faren couldn’t breathe as he stared at the spot, as frozen as the branches of the pines creaking above his head.

He thought he might pass out when Roland stirred, first scrambling to his knees and then onto his feet. “ _Motherfucker.”_ He wrapped a bloodied fist around the spiraled rod buried in his middle, and grunted and groaned as he ripped it out, throwing it into the snow where it bloomed into an angry pink pool.

There was as second where none of them did anything, and then Faren’s sense seemed to come alive, and he had only one pressing thought. “ _Run!”_

They turned from the direction that the spear had come from, tumbling through the forest and leaving behind all pretense of looking for Laurel. She was gone, just as they would be if they didn’t get out of there. Faren’s feet smacked against uneven ground that he couldn’t see, each step burying him up to the knee or higher in snow. Branches and thorns stuck to his clothing as they trampled their own path, heedless of the direction or the path. He wasn’t sure where they were going, only that they needed to get away. He knew, with every fiber in his being, that if they didn’t get out of these woods _immediately_ then these trees would mark their graves.

Out of the darkness ahead of them three figures materialized from behind the cover of snowfall. The trio of scouts stopped short, skidding to ungainly halts as they took in the monsters that had been born out of their nightmares. _This can’t be real,_ Faren thought, but the sting of ice against his cheek and the throbbing of his heart kept the happy lie from taking hold.

Before them stood sickening masses of flesh and red crystal, bulging out of malformed templar armor and dented helms. Red veins throbbed on the surface of their skin, visibly pulsing as they stood breathing in and out. Shards of red glass, like the one that had hit Roland, stuck out of their skin at odd angles, and it was then that Faren realized that he recognized the strange stone.

_Red lyrium._

Bria, who was always the brightest of them, always the swiftest, turned to run away, to dart in another direction and seek her escape. Her speed and her stealth did her no good, as she ran right into the arm of a creature that appeared to be made of blades, knives of red lyrium replacing its arms. It thrust into her until she sank up to its elbow, and then it lifted her into the air, opening its mouth to reveal rows of jagged, blackened teeth and an unholy sound that trembled through the trees around them. It shook her, and her head lolled to the side, her limbs askew even as she tried to grab onto the blade jutting through her, to gain purchase on the very thing harming her. Then the monster pulled back, setting her free to stumble to the ground. She turned, taking a step towards Faren, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming.

The only sound he had heard her make the entire time he had known her was a sickening gurgle as blood worked its way out of her lips and bled through the cloth wrapped around her face.A flower of death blooming across the white snow. Then one of the creatures behind her strode forward with frightening speed and placed his palms on either side of her head, twisting until her spine popped and severed, ending her life once and for all.

Faren and Roland drew their weapons together, and Faren was filled with a living rage that dimmed his vision and made his bones ache with his fury.

Roland looked at him, his eyes full of tears that made Faren sick to see. “Run.”

“Fuck you, I’m the hero in this story.” Faren didn’t give him further chance to argue, and he ran forward towards the nearest of the creatures. He tried to feint, bringing one of his daggers up in an obvious strike while he balanced the other for a back stab, but the thing was inhumanly fast. It grabbed his blade and twisted, causing Faren to scream as something in his wrist shattered, forcing him to let go of the weapon. He lashed out with the second, wildly, inefficiently, and the creature ducked and tossed him aside, forcing him to the ground. A hideous rumble emanated from its chest, and Faren realized it was _laughing_ at him.

He scrambled to his feet, but this time took a step back, circling as it wheezed and snarled, waiting for his opening. It gave him half a second before it charged, and again it was too fast. He had only enough time to bring up his dagger to block a bladed arm, the red lyrium sparking as it came in contact with the steel. One of the sparks landed on his hand, and Faren screamed again as it burned into his flesh like white hot coal. Then the creature brought up its other hand, crashing it into the side of his head, and he toppled to the ground again with star bursts of light and pain exploding across his vision.

He blinked, frantically trying to recover his vision, and when he could see again he wished he couldn’t. As the world came into focus, the first sight he was greeted with was Roland across the clearing. He was covered in blood and yelling unintelligibly, trying to fight off two of them at once. The creatures didn’t even look like they were straining as they blocked his blows and sliced at his flesh. They were _playing_ with him.

Faren lifted a shaking hand, although what he had planned to do with it he didn’t know. It didn’t matter, in the end anyway, as he was forced to watch the creature behind Roland grab him, jamming bladed fingers into his chest until he screamed, his eyes bulging in agony. Then the one in front of him slit his throat, and all that Roland was went spilling out into the mud churned snow, staining the world with the last of his life.

He rolled onto his back, staring up at the sky. His ears were ringing, and the stars were barred from him, and this was how it would end. The creatures loomed over him, blocking his view from even the storm, and he felt them like the crushing weight of the stone, transporting him to the terrifying nights of his childhood, trapped underground like a rat and forgotten. He wanted to close his eyes, to hide from his oncoming death. To hide from the blood and the angry red glow that dominated his vision. He would die flat on his back, a coward’s end, and he wanted to close his eyes to that reality, unable to look at the world as it watched him give in.

A pale shadow distracted him from even that comfort, and his gaze followed it as it crept out of the periphery of his vision, taking from beneath the bows of the traumatized pines. The shadow rushed forward, and a blade was thrust through the throat of one of the creatures, sending blood to dark to be human pouring out of its throat and dousing Faren with it. It stung wherever it touched his skin, and it was agony wherever it found purchase in a cut or scrape. He rolled out of the way as the creatures started screaming, a great commotion shaking the world around him. When he was finally able to right himself, it was already over, and the pale figure was the only thing left standing in the cold, dark woods.

The figure lifted his head, tilting it up towards the sky so that the brim of his strange hat moved to reveal his face. Faren was shocked to see he was nothing more than a boy, half starved judging by the hollow curves to his cheeks.

“They are coming for her.” His voice was a strange lullaby that spoke of madness, and when he turned his gaze to Faren his pale blue eyes were striking like a physical blow.

“For who? Who - or _what -_ are these things?” Faren got to his feet, swaying precariously as the blood in his head rushed to his limbs. He could feel wounds all over his body, and his wrist was swollen beyond use, dark purple cradling the shattered bones beneath the skin.

The snapping of branches interrupted the conversation, and Faren stared at the source of the noise, looking out onto the mountainside with mounting horror. There were hundreds upon hundreds of glowing points of red, tiny stars of death falling from the sky and descending the mountainside. He couldn’t count them all, but he could feel their approach, like a foul wind at the edge of a storm, the falling leaf before a immense earthquake.

“There’s an entire army out there…” his voice cracked, and he swallowed around his terror.

The bushes to their left exploded, and three more of the monstrous things trundled out of the brush. Faren and the boy ducked to avoid the projectiles of branches and red lyrium that sailed through the air.

The boy lifted two long, jagged daggers, staring at the creatures with frightening calm. “You need to return, to warn them. I was not fast enough, but you can be.”

He looked at the boy, and at the creatures. He thought of Bria’s blood covering her mouth, and Roland’s sinking into the snow. He thought of all the people back at Haven, celebrating a victory that was about to be throttled. He weighed all of that against the life of this strange boy and his droopy hat. He hated himself, so very much did he hate the decision that he was about to make, but he knew that it had to be made.

_Don’t trust them with your life, trust them with the cause._

He turned and fled, racing back as fast as his injuries would allow, and mourning the loss of his very best friends. Somewhere along the way, he forgot about the pale boy and his hat, and about how he had been saved. The only thought that was left to him was getting to the people, and warning them, so that they wouldn’t meet the same fate as his short lived scouting team.

 


	17. I Will Come Back for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Haven is attacked.

People were racing towards the gates, strained faces peering over the heads of those in front of them, trying to see what was happening. She heard Cullen's voice, loud and firm over the fervor, calling all men to arms. Somewhere at the edge of Haven she heard someone scream, and the sound of booted feet pounding into the ground as the soldiers ran back and forth dominated the air. She picked up her pace, following the mad trail that Cullen had blazed and making her way to the tall gate at the front of the town.

She arrived at the same time as most of the other companions, Bull still busy buckling his pants back on. Dorian tossed him what must have been a scathing remark that Autumn couldn’t hear over the bedlam, because Bull turned towards him and sneered before Vivienne snapped her fingers at the pair of them, causing them to clamp their mouths shut and cease their bickering. Solas slipped past the rest of them and handed her the pack she had discarded when the had arrived in town, and she mouthed a silent thanks as she pulled her daggers out and strapped them to their places on her back. She knelt down and secured the laces on her boots as she scanned the frantic crowd, frowning when she caught sight of Cullen, who looked to be having a very angry conversation with a pair of scouts.

He dismissed the scouts and they gave stiff salutes before he jogged over to the group huddled by the gate. “One of the scouts we left to patrol the area has reported in. The numbers aren’t confirmed, but there is a large force bearing down on us over the mountain.” Cullen’s words were like a dark premonition as behind him they could see a cluster of light in the distance, marching over the nearest forest edge, a thousand point of lights rushing out of the trees like an avalanche of fireflies.

Josephine gaped at them, her eyes stretched open as far as they would go. “Under what banner?!”

Cullen frowned. “None.”

“None?! But that's impossible!” her face registered her utter confusion at that fact. Many people could be responsible for attacking them, the Inquisition had yet to make a lot of friends, but not many would bother to attack anonymously. Most of their enemies would want to make a statement, make their defeat an example to others that would think to question the status quo. What good was a statement if no one would take claim to the deed?

Cullen ran a hand through his hair, sending curls tumbling out from behind his fingers. “Our report is considerably lacking. The scout that brought the warning was half out of his mind from injuries and mumbling something about monsters. None of our people can discern any identifying markers from any of the forces on their way. The only thing we _can_ confirm is that they are extremely hostile.”

Autumns mind was a rolling litany of every curse word she knew, in every language she could think of. Was there no end to the madness? Was she to get no reprieve to the end of her days?

The gate was abruptly thrust inward, the wooden door straining against the hinges as bright flashes of light filtered under the wood, and an anguished voice carried through the chaos. “Please, open! I cannot come in unless you open!”

She knew nothing about the person shouting from the other side of the gate, save for that the voice was young, and to her that was enough. She acted fast, running to open the door, her sense of self preservation being thrown to the wayside because someone was begging for herself. Somewhere in the back of her mind a voice in her head was warning her this compulsion to act first and ask questions later was going to bite her in the ass someday, but she crossed her fingers and hoped that day wasn't today. She threw open the gates with the help of a quick thinking guard with carrot colored hair, and outside stood a slim boy with a large hat, the brim hanging low over stringy blonde hair that covered most of his face. He was standing over the charred body of a masked warrior, the dead man's helmet disturbingly like the ones the Venatori guards had worn in Redcliffe.

The boy lurched forward, his eyes searching their faces in a panic. “I came to warn you, they are coming, coming to hurt you.” He paused, turning to her. “I was late. You probably already know.” He did not seem to be thinking clearly, and put off a strange aura, as though being pulled in too many directions. She could see his point, his message, straining behind his eyes, pulling at the lease of his consciousness as it tried to fight its way onto his tongue.

She took his hand, and his eyes settled on her, stopping and swallowing her in an ice blue gaze. “Who? Who’s coming?” she kept her voice low, filled with all the calm she didn’t feel.

“The Elder One, comes with the Templars that aren't anymore. There.” he pointed up towards a hill just outside the borders of the town, where a monstrous looking shape stood next to a man. The glowing lights of the marching force illuminated them, making them easier to make out than they would normally have been at that distance. The creature loomed over the man next to him, a giant specter of terror whose form inspired whispers in the back of her mind, dark murmurs that made the mark in the palm of her hand ache and sputter. It looked to be wearing long, dark robes, and she could see from here bits of its flesh radiating with the same sickly glow that red lyrium had. She saw it raise a giant, clawed hand and sweep it forward, clearly urging the troops onward. It was shouting something none of them could hear.

“Templars?!” Cullen rounded on the boy, his voice betraying shock and fury. His eyes darted between the boy and the hill, and Autumn realized the figure next to him wore armor with the templars insignia emblazoned on the front in crimson flame.

The boy seemed unperturbed by the Commander’s outburst, and tilted his head to the side. “Not anymore, but them, and the Elder One. They've been looking for you, searching dark corners and empty places, rage and red swallowing everything...” he blinked, returning to reality from some far off corner of his mind, and faced Autumn and met her gaze. “You took his things, his plans his magic his mages, and now he comes for you. He is very, very angry with you.” The boy's eyes searched hers, two pools of light blue fear, beseeching her to listen.

Autumn whirled around to face Cullen, tearing her eyes away from the boy and the army marching quickly towards the small village. He looked back at her, face set in angry determination. He drew his sword from his belt, holding it at the ready. “We fight, tonight, my lady.” he turned from her, facing the crowd of people now gathered around them.

“Inquisition, to arms! Do not let them take us! Stand tonight and fight, fight for your lives, for all of us, for the Herald!” he raised his sword into the air and let out a rallying cry that echoed against the cold snow around them. The soldiers responded in turn as everyone erupted into a flurry of activity. Cullen marched off to instruct a group of them further, sparing a single, forlorn glance at Autumn that she would have missed if she had not been watching him.

Leliana appeared from the nothing beside her, intense and quiet. “We need people protecting the trebuchets, or they will have little hope of firing on those forces before they reach us. Go with your team and do what you can, I will send word if we need you elsewhere.” Autumn nodded at her and Leliana turned to leave, but stopped and grabbed Autumn's shoulder. “Be careful, friend.” Her sincerity was fierce, and Autumn grabbed her hand on her shoulder, trying to convey a million things in just a brief, tilted action.

The trebuchets were already on fire by the time her team reached them, and after that things became a blur of violence and chaos. Autumn raced to protect people as they tried to launch the trebuchets, fires and arrows and monsters sprouting up faster than they could be dealt with. War broke out all around them, drowning her in din and blood and the screams of pain from both sides. The force that had initially seemed to be templars was closer to being made of nightmares masquerading as men, who fought with a savagery that was hard to stand against. They were faster, and stronger, and more viscious than anything Autumn had ever seen, and she watched helpless as so many soldiers were struck down, too far away or to far gone to be saved. They finally got two of the trebuchets fired, causing a set of massive explosions in the middle of the force and taking out a large chunk of the approaching army. A smattering of cheers went up all around as the frantic village saw an apparent victory, but they died in their throats, stillborn as the end fell out of the clouds.

A great screech rang out all over the mountainside, and out of the dust and fog rose what must have been something from Autumn's deepest, darkest nightmares. There was a flash of something evil in the darkest corners of her mind, smirking at her in her terror. This could not be real. It was a dragon, whose flesh appeared to be rotting and falling off, and whose breath seemed to be made of shards of glass and electricity. It flew over the town, destroying the trebuchets it came near, causing massive explosions wherever it belched its deadly flames. The call to fall back into Haven was made, though who made it she could not tell, and everyone raced to get inside of the great stone chantry, the only building that could possibly provide any safety. Autumn knew there was no way the small building could stand against such a beast, however.

They were all going to die and there was nothing she could do about it.

***

Cullen lost track of Autumn in the chaos of the attack, and was desperately looking for her even as he tried to command his troops and fight off the _things_ that were attacking them. Their adversaries wore the armor of the Templar order, but fought viciously with the strength of demons and didn't respond to any efforts to reason with them. When seen up close, their skin was mottled and gray, with red veins pulsing unnaturally on the surface and corrupted lyrium jutting out of the flesh. Guttural, inhuman sounds came out of their throats, and the blood that poured from their wounds was boiling and capable of burning those who were splattered in it, as though it were acid. It was impossible to fight them all, they were everywhere, smashing through the Inquisition's poor forces like fire engulfing kindling. Cullen couldn't focus, his body straining with the fights, his mind trying to save his forces and locate Autumn, the air humming with energy and fear clouding his thoughts.

When the dragon showed up and started attacking he finally caught sight of her at the gates, racing towards the chantry while trying to haul wounded villagers to safety. He could see the fear and desperation on her face from where he was, and he knew exactly how she felt.

They were going to die....after everything they had managed to achieve, it was all for naught.

He pushed through and made it to the chantry himself, breathing heavily as his heart sank lower and lower in his chest. Autumn was within, looking around as though trying to find something, anything, among the scattered benches and tipped candles that she could use to help. She looked desolate, her face pale from panic and shock. He wanted to hold her, he wanted to tell her that it would all be okay, but there was no way they could hold off that monster. Nothing they could do to fight them. They were completely overrun, and their forces already decimated.

He approached her, putting a hand on her shoulder. The absurd idea to spin her around and kissed her scrambled to the forefront of his mind, and in his current state of despair he was hard pressed to find a reason not to. They were going to die, so he might as well throw propriety to the wind and declare how he actually felt. He was a moment away from giving in, of finding out what her lips tasted like as they stood on death’s door, when the strange boy who had warned them at the gates interrupted.

He was holding up Chancellor Roderick, a red splotch blooming from the center of his robes that made Cullen wish he had never made fun of the red on his face. The boy settled the man on a chair before looking at Autumn. “I cam to warn, to help, too late but there's still time.” His eyes lost focus as he gazed past Autumn, into an endless nothing that none of them could see. “Dark, secret, two by two slipping through...” The boy shook his head, snapping back to attention. “He wants to tell you, before he dies.”

Roderick coughed, and Autumn knelt down and took his hand. “Don’t treat me like an invalid, woman. I’m not dead yet.”

She smiled, a tear slipping out of the corner of her eye and working a smooth trail across her cheek. “Don’t tell me what to do, old man.”

“Ha! Herald of Andraste.” His chuckle turned into a wet wheeze, and he doubled over, clutching at his stomach. “You are probably more like her than any of the old hags in the chantry will ever know.” Autumn squeezed his fingers and looked around the room, her eyes finding Solas who was hovering in the shadows nearby. He shook his head, and her lips pursed.

“Roderick, please, let me get a potion or something - ”

“You are kinder than I thought you would be, you know that?” he smiled weakly at her. “I spent so much time doubting you. _Wasted_ so much time. I was so busy convincing myself of what I thought you weren’t, I never stopped to look at what you actually were.”

“You aren’t so bad yourself, for a crotchety old fool.”

He snorted. “You aren’t wrong about the fool part. Listen, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I was, for how I treated you. When they tell your stories through the ages, I’ll be the old man that never believed, yelling at the sky like it would help. So much hand wringing, so much political posturing. I very nearly missed the real thing.”

“You…you believe I’m the Herald of Andraste?” Autumn blinked at him, a waver to her lower lip as she swallowed.

Roderick leaned his head against the back of the chair, looking at the shattered remnants of the stain glass windows high above them. “I spent my life studying Andraste. She was rebellion made real, a slip of a thing that inspired thousands to fight against corruption. She did it with song, but you…you do it with laughter, with honesty. You have led the people to the best of your abilities, and I have watched you carefully, and watched you do so even though you felt unworthy. You are kind, and quick, and you save those in need simply because they asked. You stand against the darkness, just like the light of dawn that was promised. I have never met a woman more worthy of bearing the heraldry of Andraste, and I am sorry that it has taken me until my final moments to see it.”

Tears poured out of her eyes in droves, and Autumn took the man’s chin in her hand so that he met her gaze. “All that bloodloss is making you delirious. I’m not Andraste’s chosen, and you’re not going to die. That’s not how this works. That’s not how we work. You’re supposed to yell at me and demand my head.”

“More wicked than me will be demanding your head soon. That is not my role to play.” She choked on a sob, burying her head against his knee, and he placed a trembling hand on her head. “Hush child, I have important things to say still.” Autumn grew quiet and still, but she did not lift her head, so the chancellor turned his attention to Cullen. “There is a very old, unused passage in the back of the chantry. Not many know about it. I myself found it by accident, stumbling and lost on my pilgrimage I happened upon the older, sacred path. It must have been fate. Andraste must have shown me, so that I could show you. So that I could be more than the angry old man in your story.”

Solas moved from the back of the room, walking to the back of the chantry in a rush of padded footsteps before disappearing into one of the back rooms.

Cullen smiled at Roderick, for the first time that he could recall. “We owe you are deepest gratitude.”

“You owe me nothing, but the promise that you will go, and get them out.” He leaned back again, closing his eyes as he reclined in the chair. “I’m going to rest now, the boy and your bald apostate should be well acquainted with the way by now.” He spared a reassuring pat on Autumn’s head, and then drifted off into an uneasy sleep. His breath did not halt, and so Cullen waved over a pair of soldiers and asked that they take Roderick with the rest of the wounded. Perhaps once they reached safety they could save him. Perhaps the Maker would show him mercy for his change of heart towards their cause.

The pale boy appeared out of nothing beside Cullen, making him jump and place a hand on his sword. “The passage is narrow. Not many can fit at once. Two by two, afraid and hurting…” he shook his head again, but did not continue his speech.

Cullen swore. “We need more time. If we had more time we could funnel people out…”

“We need a distraction.” Autumn’s voice was steel and fire as she stood, wiping tears from her red rimmed eyes.

“No.” Cullen spoke with authority, with a tone that demanded obedience. It only served to make the fire in her emerald eyes shine brighter.

“He’s here for me? Then he can have me. I’ll go give him what he wants, and the rest of you can go to safety.”

Autumn locked eyes with him, and he saw within those green pools a deadly resoluteness. With panic he realized that there would be no force on Thedas to convince her to leave someone other than herself behind. Despair engulfed him, his mind racing, trying to come up with any solution, any reason to hope.

She knew that she was going to die. She was sacrificing herself.

“Autumn...” He could not admit this was goodbye. His brain could not wrap around that eventuality. He had to hope, had to at least pretend.

“Get them out, get them all out.” the fierce determination on her face gave him reassurance, a sense that nothing could take her down. Surely someone this strong, beautiful, and brave could survive anything. “Cullen, swear to save as many as you can!” she begged him with her eyes, silently pleading him to do what she could not. He nodded, incapable of words, not trusting his voice to convey what needed to be said.

She went to turn away, but he grabbed her elbow, stalling her. “Look for our signal. We’ll send it up when we’re clear, and then you _run_ , get out of there as fast as you can.” he paused, looking into her eyes, willing her to understand things that he could not possibly put to words in this moment. “I swear to you I will come back for you!” anguish cracked his voice, but he didn’t care. She smiled at him, serene and graceful, a woman who didn’t believe that she would see him fulfill the promise he gave. She took his hand and squeezed it for just a moment before she nodded and walked out. It took every ounce of restraint to not follow her, to kiss her savagely and face doom together. He knew that she was counting on him, that she trusted him to save everyone else. He knew there was no way he could stop her from doing this. The only thing he could do now was pray that the Maker would not take her from them...from him.

 


	18. Fuck Snow, Fuck Ice, Fuck Mountains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Haven, and the Herald, fall.

Autumn marched out of the doors alone, her heart in her throat and a steady resolve leading her feet. This was her destiny. She could feel it. She had sacrificed so much for all of these people. and now she had one last chance to do it again, to save everyone that she could.

The snow crunched underfoot as she made her way outside the village, towards the wreckage that was left of their defenses. She hadn't the faintest idea what to do, but she knew this monster was looking for her, and what better distraction than to give him what he wanted? If it could save all those people, she would gladly meet the thing that knocked so loudly on her door.

The dragon flew close overhead, and started racing forward, the wings of death beating behind her, stirring the air with a foul wind. The sound of the beast drawing in a breath was rattled air through fetid sails, life dragged through organs that rejected its presence. She felt an explosion nearby and her back was pelted with sharp, hot shards of fire, glass burying into her skin and slicing into the muscle beneath. She screamed and flew forward, landing heavily on her chest in the snow. Her chest heaved as she tried to right herself, her ribs grating in a way that set her teeth on edge. She placed her hands on the ground and pushed, rolling over in time to see the stomach of the monster pass over her, bone and sinew sticking through its hide, a grotesque cage holding it together. Shards of red lyrium rained down on her with every flex of its wings. She covered her eyes with her arms as the shards hit all around her, digging into the exposed flesh on her hands. The mark vibrated in protest, sending shocks of pain along her bones. She screamed again.

“That is a sweet, sweet sound...” a dark, grainy voice filtered into her ears, and she looked up to see the horror they had seen on the hill, standing over her with a sinister finality.

It was not human. It -he?- stood tall, taller than even Bull, towering over her and glaring with an ancient rage. It had eyes as red as blood, and a face that may have once been human but was so contorted with red crystals digging into the flesh it resembled a golem more than a person. Its lips twisted upward in a malformed approximation of a smile. “Did you think to escape me, Herald?” he used her title like a slur, each syllable a drop of bile in the back of his throat. She could smell the corruption rolling off of him like sick fog, the unmistakable taint of the blight broiling beneath the surface. The black tinge within the veins standing out on his neck confirmed the fear, and Autumn shuddered to think she was speaking to a darkspawn.

Autumn didn't answer him but lay panting on the ground, trying not to focus on the pain from the shards, trying not to focus on the all encompassing fear overtaking her mind.

He raised his hand and with a flex of a large, taloned finger she was yanked into the air, hovering there limply. She gasped, the shock of the quick movement hurting her wounds, dragging together bits of her that were broken and breaking them more. He narrowed his eyes and grinned savagely, then twisted his hand again. She felt the shards of glass buried in her skin seize, responding to his will, mindless soldiers obeying every command. She screamed again, agony tearing her mind apart, ripping through her chest and throat, unstoppable and unbearable.

“No music was ever made to match that sound, I think.” his voice rumbled through the air, thunder echoing in a dark cave.

“What are you?” she managed through gritted teeth.

The fever in his eyes flashed, and he tilted his head back to look at her like an insect found in his food. “I am the god that remains, the being that has survived the eons of time watching this world squirm and crumble in its faltering.” He reveled in his own glory, reveled in his dedication to himself. He was a monument of arrogance that refused to fall to the disease that he carried, stubborn and defiant beyond the laws of the sunlight land. “For a thousand years I was confused. No more. I have come to raise up the Imperium from its own ashes. Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty.” He twisted his hand again, and her arms flew out painfully, straining at the sockets and threatening to be ripped from her. “I am the will that is Corypheus, hear my name and know that I am your master.”

“What do you want from me?” she didn't care, didn’t want the answer to that question or any question from this living nightmare, but she was speaking to keep from focusing on the pain, anything to keep her mind from sinking into unconsciousness.

“You don't even know the gift I have let you live with.” He brought his hand up, grasping her chin roughly in his talons. His face was next to hers, and she could feel his breath as he spoke. A hot, angry tear fell out of her eye and down her face. “Pretender, you will toy with things beyond your ken no more.”

His eyes roamed hungrily over her, taking their time until they found their prize, glittering as he gazed at the mark on her hand. She felt it pulse in response, a betrayal so deep that she wished she had lopped it off all those days ago. He trailed his hand off her face, across her throat, and down her arm until it reached her palm. She whimpered, feeling her flesh prick against the sharp tip of his finger, feeling his breath quicken as he enjoyed the laborious exploration of her skin.

“No worries, Pretender. I will take the anchor back and ease your flailing.” He lifted the hand that was not pressed against her, and it was then she saw the orb clutched in his grasp. It was dark grey, shadow liquified and then poured into a sphere, with intricate curved lines covering the surface. He grasped it harder, sinking his fingers around the edge, and the orb lit up with string of magic shooting around his hand like lightning. She felt the mark on her arm thrum to life, pain searing through it, vibrating in time with the pulses on the orb. The orb glowed brighter and the pain in her hand intensified. The mark was being torn from her flesh, flayed off inch by inch. She screamed again, agony swallowing her mind, devouring her person until she was nothing but endless sound and all consuming blackness. Magic shot out from her hand, arcing in great bolts around them. He twisted his clenched fist again, grasping her arm tightly with his other hand, his sharp nails digging into her flesh, drawing blood that dripped onto the snow below and sizzled into trails of steam.

The pain was immense, was everything, was all that she was and all that she had ever been. The magic grew white hot around them, burning her skin, hurting her eyes and throat as she breathed in the heat. She couldn't even tell if she was still screaming anymore, but the pain was so great that she didn't care, couldn't stand it, she just wanted it to stop...

_Please make it stop._

And then it did stop. With an angry growl Corypheus tightened his hold further, shaking her with brutal force before tossing her roughly to the side. She impacted into the side of one of the trebuchets with a heavy thud, her ribs snapping and grinding together. She groaned, incapable of screaming, and tried to orient herself against the lack of sense parading through her brain.

“The anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your stumbling.” he snarled.

She struggled to her feet, willing her body to ignore the pain, willing the red haze in front of her eyes to clear. She leaned against the trebuchet, using it in place of her spine which did not seem to support her weight at the moment.

“You will die, Herald. I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You must die.”

She saw it then, one bright flaming arrow soaring high up into the sky some ways off from the wreckage of the village. They had made it, Cullen had gotten them out. That was all she needed, and now she could let go.

“Fuck. You.” she growled out at him, kicking the crank on the trebuchet, sending the load it bore flying towards the mountainside.

There was a loud crack from the impact, the world was splitting in two to birth thunder and emptiness from the cracks. She could see Corypheus still standing where he had been, clutching his hand to his chest and glaring at her furiously, as though her words had actually wounded him.

“You dare steal from a _GOD_!” he screamed and started forward again. There was another loud crack in the air, farther away from them this time, and he paused and turned to look at where the sound originated. He let out an enraged screech that was quickly lost in the rumble cascading towards them from the mountainside. Great shelves of snow had broken off and were rushing towards them, an avalanche sent by the wounded land itself.

The dragon swooped down and gathered the madman in its claws, using great wings to sweep it back up into the air as the wall of snow rapidly approached where they had been. Autumn rushed to her feet, breaking into a run, stumbling as fast as she could through the pain of her injuries, trying in vain to outrun death as it barreled after her.

In front of her was a cabin, still standing after the mayhem that had destroyed her world. She rushed into it and slammed the door behind her, just as the snow crashed into the wood. She heard it smash the ruins outside, and then the door exploded inward, a great deal of ice and debris flooding into the room and knocking her back. Miraculously the cabin did not crumble, however, and she was not buried in the anger of the injured Frostbacks.

She swayed on her feet, dizzy and exhausted. She had only enough strength to grip the wreckage of a chair in an attempt to ease her way to the floor before she smashed into it, unable to hold on to her consciousness any longer.

***

They arrived through the passage and turned as a group to see Haven's demise. It was impossible to tell exactly what was going on back at the village anymore, but they all saw clearly as the mountainside came tumbling down and an avalanche overtook everything. The dragon – people were calling it an archdemon now – was seen flying off in the aftermath, and an eerie silence suffocated the refugees as they looked on. No sound or movement came from the entombed town below.

Cullen fell to his knees, staring at the still piles of snow, willing someone to come walking out. Nothing moved but the wind. Tears stung at the corner of his eyes as Leliana forced him to stand, and roughly whispered in his ear that they had to keep going, that he was the only person that could guide the people through this. So he shut down, and mechanically they marched, until they found a safe space to camp, safe from the blizzard and the cold. He owed Autumn that much, to make sure they found that.

He had promised, after all.

***

She awoke to cold, sharp anguish all over her body. She was shivering hard, and the tremors were forcing her broken ribs to crack together in her chest. She sat up through the pain with slow, deliberate movements, and looked around. She was still in the cabin, eerily quiet under who knew how many layers of snow. She could hear the wood creak under the weight, her coffin straining under the weight of the world, a tomb for a living corpse.

Slowly she stood, trying not to move her ribs much. Her arm felt like it had been wrenched out of it's socket, and dangled unusable at her side. She cradled it to her chest and looked around for a way out. There was a hole in the ceiling of the cabin that she could reach if she stood on the remains of a bed that had been demolished when the snow had rushed through the doorway. There was ice packed over the opening amidst the rafters, and she would have to try and dig her way up to the surface, but it was not as though she had a glut of options.

When she hit the snow over the hole a huge quantity of it collapsed inward, and she narrowly avoided being buried all over again. When she brushed the offending matter out of her way she could see the sky outside. It was heavy and gray, the wind howling savagely, but it was a welcome sight all the same. She laboriously climbed her way out of her safe haven and onto the surface, her fingers turning to ice and her muscles burning in pain with every movement.

_Fuck_. Vast white expanses greeted her. An unforgiving blizzard was blowing around her, stirring up snow and stinging her eyes, whipping her hair about her face. She raised her good arm to cover her eyes, trying to see anything in the mess.

There...just for a second, she thought she saw a light. It was gone before she could focus on it, but it had looked like the flicker of a far off campfire, perhaps? The glow of many fires at once, caressing the sky for a moment before being swallowed again by the storm. It was so far off, though, acres of endless white standing between her and what very realistically could be a trick of light to tired eyes. Wearily she began to stumble towards what she hoped she had seen. She wasn't dressed for trekking through the snow, and she knew that she wasn't going to make it far before she succumbed to the cold and her injuries, but for now she poured all her focus into putting one foot in front of the other. If she was going to live she had to.

***

Solas paced in front of the tent, each restless step carving a new divot into the stone, all of them a monument to what he had missed. Missed smiles, missed laughter, missed chances to embrace what was real in this world while he wallowed in self deprecating mire.

He had turned his back for an instant, mere minutes had ticked by. When he looked back on the memory he could count them, down to the last bitter second, and know the exact span of time that it took for someone to disappear from his life. He had found the passage, and he had ascertained its functionality, and by the time he returned to the room he did not find her, but the broken man she had left behind, the Commander mechanically performing his duties with a deadened look in his distant eyes.

He should have gone with her. What was more, perhaps he should have been the one to go alone, to stand against the darkness born from the shadows in his hands. She should never have been allowed to walk through those doors alone, and something in him died at the thought of her facing the end without a friend at her side. This was his fault, his regret and his folly, yet he was powerless to do more. The moment had passed, and he could not aid her the way that he should have. He could not save her from the fates she had been tangled in.

The boy, identified as Cole at some point during their long funeral march from Haven, sat upon a wooden crate, watching him as he tracked sorrow into the snow below. “She is hurting…” his voice was forlorn, a plaintive mewl against the howling wind. “Torn away, lost, all her fault, not strong enough. Can’t think can’t breathe maker just let me rest…” he paused, and turned his innocent eyes to the shadows on Solas’ face. “Why is it your fault?”

“That is not so easily explained, dear boy.” Solas heard the crack in his voice and grimaced.

“Secrets, hidden, deep and dark, not even the light could reveal themnow, lost to the ages like sand in the sea. For the best, it was all fleeting anyhow, for I know what I have wrought and I know what I sow…”

“ _Enough.”_ Solas hadn’t intended to shout, but the pain and anguish Cole’s words awakened overwhelmed him, picking at the threads of things he kept at the back of his heart. Cole blinked at him, a child whose innocence would be marred with each moment in his company. What existed in this world that Solas would not spoil? “I apologize, to treat you with anger is unworthy. Please forgive me, and please do not pry in my mind again.”

Cole hopped off the box, giving him a lopsided smile as his hat bobbed around his head. “I don’t believe it’s your fault.”

Solas watched, mystified, as the boy walked off into the night, leaving him outside of the tent alone. He shook his head, marveling at the power of words he knew to be untrue. There was kindness here, real kindness that he had not believed still existed. It would be so easy to claim it was merely Cole, an anomaly of some kind that would bear further investigation later, but he knew that it was beyond that, though it pained him to admit it.

These people did not deserve this, but truthfully they never did.

***

Fuck snow. Fuck ice. Fuck mountains. Fuck ladders again, just for good measure, and while she was at it lemons too. Autumn repeated the endless litany to herself in between each footstep. Raise foot, drag it out of the snow, push forward. Fuck snow, fuck ice, fuck mountains. Repeat.

She was exhausted. Something was bleeding. She had seen the red in the snow behind her, but she didn't even know where the injury was. Probably everywhere. Her toes hurt, her fingers hurt. Her lips were so chapped and raw it hurt to breathe around them. Her lungs were fire and her body was ice.

Fuck snow, fuck ice, fuck mountains.

Raise foot...she stumbled and dropped to a knee. She frowned at herself. This wasn't part of the routine. What came after stumble? The ground felt softer than she remembered. _Lay down_. No, that wasn't right. Fuck snow.

She got back up. Raise foot. Drag it out of the snow. Push forward. She tilted, falling to her knees again. So tired, so cold...

_Someone tell Cullen I'm sorry._

_***_

Once the people were safely settled into a clearing that offered some protection from the blizzard, or as safely as they could be, Cullen began dressing for his trek back to Haven.

“You cannot leave, Cullen.” Leliana stood, an imposing wall in his way, her eyes glinting with steely determination and anger. She was hurting over their losses, but pragmatic as always, she was only thinking of the moment, of what was needed in that very instant.

“I will not abandon her there.” he didn’t bother to look at her. He refused to meet her eyes, he would not see the pity that he knew was there. e focused on tying the laces to his thick boots, emotion and fear making his movements rough.

“We cannot risk losing our Commander to a blizzard.” she spat.

“We cannot risk losing _her_.” he said, standing up and staring her down, shaking with rage and a million emotions he couldn’t describe.

“She’s gone, Cullen. You saw what happened. We all did. Do not disgrace her memory by letting her death mean nothing!” tears were dancing at the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over, but her wrath sharp knives digging into his shot nerves.

“You don't know that. She could be out there, she could need our help!” he clenched his hand into a fist to stop the shaking, to force away the headache pounding against the sides of his skull. “I swore I would go back for her!”

“She would not want this. She would not want you chasing after her ghost.” She pursed her lips, averting her gaze as she spoke.

“And you would know so well what she wants? What she _wants_ is to be alive, what she wants is to have never met any of us, what she wants is to have that thing on her hand gone. What I do has very little to do with what she wants.” He tugged at the bootlaces viciously, cinching the last of them closed tightly enough that his leg strained against the leather of the shoe. Let him loose circulation. Let his legs fall off and let him perish in the snow to follow her. He didn’t care.

“If you believe that, then you are a greater fool than I. You cannot go, Cullen.”

“Oh yes he can!” a deep voice barreled in from behind the spymaster, and Cullen leaned over to see Bull, followed by Varric, Dorian, and Sera, bundled up and carrying lanterns. “Come on Cullen, we’re heading to the east back towards the town, Cass and Blackwall are scanning the other directions in case she left town and got lost, and Vivienne and Solas have prepped a first aid station. We’re _going_ to find her.”

Leliana’s head sank, her posture failing her, and she stumbled to the side, grabbing onto the post of the tent to keep herself upright. “I truly hope you do.”

Cullen stood and took one of the proffered lanterns, looking out into the pass. He couldn’t see beyond the walls of the valley they had settled in, as the blizzard had created a shifting white wall of snow and death. There was nothing out there but a bleak end, but Cullen couldn’t accept that. He had to believe there was more, he had to believe there was hope, because without that belief he had nothing left. He was a man emptied of all that he had ever had, all his faith and his duty, and there was nothing left but the driving need to prove that the world showed mercy, to prove that good things could still happen in the midst of nightmares…or prove that it was not a world worth saving, and go somewhere quiet where he could slip away and watch the whole thing burn.

The wind tore at their eyes as they squinted into the maelstrom, his toes going numb from the aching cold even through the thick, fur lined boots. The mountainside echoed with her name, chanted over and over out of trembling lips from each of them, their tongues tasting the cold as they sucked in breath to call out again. Cullen could barely hear the others shouting from a handful of yards away, so he had no idea how they expected Autumn to hear them, wherever she was.

The night was sinking its fingers into the back of his mind, whispering demands of sleep against his blind determination, when Cullen caught the barest glimpse of red, a flash only just visible through the storm. He squinted, sending every prayer he could think of that it was what he thought it was, that her red curls would guide him to her. When he saw movement he knew.

“There!” He pointed as he ran, unsure if the others heard him, unsure if they saw him. He was racing towards her, kicking up snow and losing his breath to the cold, his feet twisting over things buried in the snow that barred his path. He was desperate to move faster, desperate to reach the beacon that called to him through the wind and destitution. He needed to touch her, to hold her, and to prove that she was real.

When he reached her she had collapsed in the snow, her only movement a few errant curls that fluttered in the biting wind. He turned her over, her skin ice that flooded the edges of his gloves with deep cold. He ripped a glove off in frustration and placed a hand on her cheek, touching skin like solid ice. Raw tears built at the corners of his eyes, dashed away by the storm before they could fall, blurring his vision as he looked down at her, desperate for some sign. The color had drained out of her skin, her lips tinted a pale blue, as though she had swallowed the sky and stained them. Snow was matted through her hair and stuck to her skin, white on white, pale on pale. Then, barely noticeable, something he would have missed where he not so frantically looking for it, he saw the faintest stirring of movement on her chest, and the smallest breath escaped her lips. She was frozen, pieces of her broken and grinding together as he held her, and her lungs wheezed as she labored to draw in another slow breath, but she was _alive._ Somehow the Maker had heard his prayers, and she was alive.

He picked her up in his arms, tucking her under his cloak for warmth while brushing the snow off of her as best he could as the storm rained more down on top of them. Her body was completely limp, feeble as it pressed against him. Her injuries were numerous, her skin was covered in tiny cuts, her leather armor nearly shredded to ribbons. Her eyelids fluttered but did not open, her mind hovering beyond the edge of consciousness. He whispered her name and grasped her, shaking her lightly, but she did not rouse, did not even register his attempt. He pressed a desperate kiss onto her forehead, her skin so cold it burned, begging her to live with a murmured prayer against her flesh.

The others surrounded him as he turned and lifted one foot after the other towards the town. He did not stop to ask them for help, and they did not stop him to offer. He carried her back to the camp as fast as he could, the grim procession of her friends falling in the footholds he left in the snow. Sera sprinted ahead, her thinner frame flitting on top of the snow drifts and leaving the rest of them behind in moments as she raced to get to Solas and warn them of their impending arrival. Cullen could only hope she was not beyond the reach of magic and potions already.

A small crowd had gathered around the tent when he finally reached the entrance, his legs burning as every muscle screamed for mercy. The flaps of cloth were thrown open before him, Vivienne and Solas waiting with in, their faces masks of stony resolve. Inside there tubs of tepid water, blankets, and piles of ingredients that Cullen recognized as arcane from his time as a templar. He laid her down on a cot, and Dorian helped him strip her of her frozen clothing, each piece of leather or cotton stiff with ice. Someone removed the pillow from beneath her head so that she was as flat as a board, and when her armor had been removed she lay there in the cot, looking smaller than he had ever seen her. Her hands were curled in tiny fists, and her skin was as white as the sheets beneath her. She barely seemed to take up a third of the cot she rested on. Cullen couldn’t bear the sight, couldn’t bear to see her reduced to something so lifeless, and so he unbuttoned his cloak and laid it on top of her, even knowing that it would do her no good.

Solas arrived at the edge of the cot, worry breaking through on his features for once, and examined her. Cullen stepped aside to give him space, but every inch of distance between himself and Autumn felt like torture.

Solas lifted his hands, his fingers shaking for a moment before he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, bringing control as he did so. His palms lit up with a pale green aura, and he used magic to scan her. After a few moments he pressed his fingers against her lips, shifting them open with featherlight gentleness, and a warm orange glow extended from the center of his hand and down her throat. Cullen watched as her chest rose with it, then fell as a long breath slid out of her lungs. Solas repeated the action several more times before she started breathing of her own accord, though it still came in wheezing gasps.

Solas stood and nodded to Vivienne, and Cullen realized that he had managed to strip Sera into nothing but her undergarments while he was preoccupied watching the mage work. Vivienne gave Sera a light slap on her bottom, which was all the urging that the elf needed, and she clambered beneath Cullen’s cloak, huddling up against their frozen Herald. Vivienne promptly dropped a pile of fur lined quilts on top of the pair, and Sera shuffled beneath the pile to arrange them in a comfortable position.

She met Cullen’s eyes and shrugged. “Sorry, Cully Wully.” He wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for, but she seemed sincere enough, so he gave her a nod of gratitude.

Solas touched Cullen’s elbow to gain his attention. “I have warmed her lungs, so she will not starve for breath, but she has several broken ribs, and her shoulder appears to be dislocated. She needs a healing draught to mend the bones, along with a great deal of warmth and rest, though I expect in time she should make a full recovery.” Solas placed a light hand on his shoulder, his relief showing in his eyes, and then walked out of the tent to worry in whatever way the quiet man preferred. Cullen sank to his knees in front of the cot, heedless to the fact that the others were still gathered around, heedless to the fact that Sera was peering at him from beneath the same furs that surrounded Autumn. He said nothing, but stayed there on his knees drinking in the sight of her. _Alive_.

Eventually the others left, one by one going off on their own to cope with enormity of what they had lost, Sera leaving last after Vivienne had confirmed that Autumn’s body temperature had returned to safe levels. Cullen stayed. He could not bring himself to leave her bedside. He knew how it must look, what the people must think to see their Commander hiding from the burden of command, but none of that mattered to him at the moment. He needed to be here until she woke up, until she spoke, until he could see the light in her eyes once more and prove to his aching heart that she was still in there, and had not been frozen in Haven after all.

 

It was several hours before she began to stir. She attempted to move and winced, sucking in a harsh breath, the scraped and bruised parts of her rebelling from the unexpected movement. While her bones would have been nearly mended from the potion Adan had given her, the soreness of that kind of injury still required rest before it healed.

“Don't move, you’re still hurt.” he placed his hand lightly on her shoulder. She opened her eyes and looked at him, dazed as she tried to blink the confusion from her eyes.

“I was in the snow...” she lifted her head and tried to look around before closing her eyes and letting it fall back onto the cot, a grimace distorting her lips.

“We found you not far outside of camp, my lady, and brought you back just in the nick of time.” he heard the sorrow in his own voice and wasn't sure what to say or do with himself anymore. He had needed to see her awake, needed to hear her voice...but now he didn't know what to do. The only words that wanted to come to his lips were....probably not ones she needed or wanted to hear.

She smiled at him, weak and tremulous. “Is doting on me while I am gravely injured going to become your new hobby, Commander Cullen? We can't keep meeting like this.”

He laughed softly. “Indeed, my lady. Indeed.” He wished that he had something more to say, something poignant that would capture his feelings in a few simple words, something bold or brash or poetic…but nothing came to him. Nothing but the beating of his heart and the dry patch forming at the back of his throat.

She wriggled her nose at him in distaste. “Autumn. Don't get formal on me now, Cullen. After all, this is the second time we've woken up together.” her frail smile turned into a wicked grin, and the sight of it made heat rush into his cheeks and along the back of his neck.

“I, uh, well, yes...my apologies if it seems untoward...oh Maker...” he let the mumbled apology fall away awkwardly. Leave it to her to have him stumbling and bumbling about even in a situation like this. Although he couldn't feel too terrible about it because apparently making himself look like an idiot was bringing a genuine smile to her face. She lit up, as if her own internal fires were rekindling, and the spark in her eyes returned. She was okay.

“Oh Maker, that blush is worse than the cursed smirk.” she scowled at him. He must have made some kind of horrified face, because the scowl was quickly replaced with a sweet smile. “Cullen, it's okay.” her voice was softer this time. “I'm glad you're here.”

There was warmth in her eyes, gratitude. She kept them open as long as she was able, valiantly fighting the call of oblivion, but her lids were drooping so that her lashes brushed against her face. Her exhausted body was singing the siren song of sleep, but this time it did not bring him fear to see her go. She looked serene and relaxed, secure in the knowledge that they had found her, and that she was safe. He watched her, loving to see the ease that overtook her face as she rested, loving that he was privy to all her stresses and burdens melting away as she drifted off to dreams. He had never thought he could enjoy watching someone sleep so much. He touched a finger lightly to her cheek.

“As am I, Autumn. As am I.” He left her then to rest, and headed out to check in with everyone else. Work was the very last thing he wanted to do at the moment, as his own body was begging for sleep after the long trek into the mountains and the frantic check back down them as he had looked for her. Still, he had shirked his duty long enough, and he owed it to her to make sure things were put in order before she awoke. It wouldn’t do to have the Inquisition that she had nearly died to protect fall to pieces in her absence.

 


	19. You Are Worthy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cole tries, Autumn seeks refuge, and corruption runs deep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to add a quick note thanking everyone for reading and all the Kudos and stuff. I have never really posted anything this long for people to read and the fact that people seem interested just puts me over the moon. :)

Light slipped unexpectedly between his eyelids, and he squinted at the sudden brightness, turning his head and trying to find darkness once more. Faren threw his arm up over his face, feeling the tender muscles strain around the pain of the freshly mended bones in his wrist. He groaned, and the rumble that trundled through his chest as a result reminded him that every inch of him hurt.

He sat up, giving up on sleep, and let his eyes blink a thousand times a second as they tried to adjust to the dim light. He was in a tent that was not his own, the poles bent with the weight of the patchwork tarp above his head, sagging with snow that threatened to collapse in on them at any moment. He couldn’t tell where he was, but as his eyes adjusted he could see that he was not alone. The cantankerous chancellor - _Roderick? -_ was laying in a cot next to him, and a lanky boy was perched on a stool beside him.

Faren couldn’t remember how he had gotten here. He remembered running through the dark, his frantic flight through the woods. He remembered collapsing at the feet of the scouts just outside Haven, choking his warning out around heaving breaths. He remembered looking down, and seeing a lot of blood pooling in the snow, and he had been confused as to where it was all coming from…after that, there were only vague impressions of shouting, of being jostled around and carried. Then blackness, until this moment.

He craned his neck so that he could peer through the gap at the entrance of the tent, but all that was visible outside was more snow. He couldn’t make out any landmarks, nor could he see the sky from his vantage point, so there was no use trying to determine his position by the stars above them.

“We are between the mountains.” The boy on the stool spoke without looking at him, and Faren found his voice to be hauntingly familiar.

“Uh…thanks.” He stared at him, trying to see beneath the brim of his ludicrous hat. He was like a ghost, sitting there and reminding him of things long forgotten, memories trapped in the back of his mind. “Do I know you?”

The boy tilted his head to the side. “Yes. And no. You forgot.”

“Oh.” Faren already had enough of a headache dancing against his temple, so he decided not to press the matter.

An exasperate sigh from outside of the tent interrupted the moment, and both of their heads snapped towards the sound.

“I don’t see that either of you should have a say in the matter, considering you _both_ disappeared and left me with the organization.” Faren recognized Josephine’s voice as a shadow past across the cloth of their tent, her puffy blouse obvious even despite the distorted shape.

“I was rescuing the Herald, you cannot possibly condemn me for a _rescue mission.”_ Commander Cullen sounded furious, and Faren recoiled from the growl behind his words.

“I warned you that it would be bad for morale.” Leliana was using a tone that Faren had come to recognize as very dangerous, which made him wish that he could get up and run as far away from it as possible. “You had to be the white knight, you should not be surprised that such a stunt has cost you.”

Cullen snorted. “Only in your eyes.”

“He has a point.” Josephine sighed heavily. “The soldiers already idolized you, you didn’t need to run through town carrying our comatose prophet to gain their adoration.”

Cullen coughed and sputtered incredulously. “You think that was a _political move?”_

“Only if his pants are full of politicians.” Leliana quipped.

“Leliana, so help me, if you don’t shut up I swear I’ll - ”

“ _Commander!”_ Josephine’s gasp was riddled with shock and indignation. “I do not want to hear you threaten our own people!”

“Then cover your ears so that you can claim innocence, just like you always do.” He snapped back.

“You accuse her of falsehood because she understands social tact?” Leliana’s voice rose an octave. “The fact that she understands how to _hide_ her feelings does not make her a villain.”

Cullen laughed bitterly. “If any one of us is a villain, it’s clearly - ”

“ _Enough!”_ Autumn’s voice broke through the argument, crystal clear as rose over the other heated voices. “We’ve all nearly lost our lives fighting, and I’m _sick_ of it. I don’t want us fighting amongst ourselves.”

Her words rang out in the ensuing silence, the entire encampment growing quiet and still. He could feel the horrible tension building outside, settling over all of them like sodden shawls, weighing on their shoulders and reminding them of the nightmare they had lived through. In that moment, the night felt the darkest, as though the sun would never rise again.

Through that oppressive sorrow, a voice broke through. It lifted in song, deep and smooth, carrying the words through the darkness like star bursts of light.

_Shadows fall, and hope has fled._

_Steel your heart, the dawn will come._

Faren felt his heart stop as he strained to listen, to hear the music as it cut through the shadows. Another voice added to the first, followed by another, and another, and before long the entire camp was singing. Each new singer added a new note, a new layer to the melody so that the air was filled with it, beating like the hearts as they sang to the heavens.

Chancellor Roderick coughed, and Faren turned to see the propped up on his elbow, his eyes burning with a feverish light. “Can’t sing…don’t have the breath…but I told her she was the dawn.”

“Roderick?” Faren tried to sit up further, but his arm buckled under the strain of his weight, and he collapsed back on his pillow.

“Believe in her.” The man rasped, wheezing out the words around lungs clouded with blood. “Make sure they believe in her.”

_For one day soon, the dawn will come._

The song faded, and Roderick’s eyes slipped closed, his chest growing still as the last of his breath escaped into the air.

The boy looked up, his hat tumbling off his head as he stared through a hole in the tent that Faren hadn’t noticed before, the stars shining through. “He followed the song.”

Faren felt tears prick at his eyes as he remembered all that he had lost. He remembered the dark of the woods, and the dark of the blood as it blackened the snow. Would the dawn ever come? Would he never know the joy of light again? The blood on the ground might as well have been on his hands. He had wrought their deaths, with each mistake, each impatient decision. They had trusted him, and he had failed.

“It wasn’t your fault.” The boy’s icy eyes were boring into him, and it was in that stare that Faren remembered. He remembered the quick blades stalling his final moment, he remembered those same pale eyes begging him to run, to warn them.

“If you hadn’t been there, I would have died too. I should have been more alert, I should have been paying attention.” A tear worked its way free from the confines of his eyes and rolled into the tangles of his beard, leaving a trail of stinging sadness behind.

The boy shook his head. “It would not have changed. The music was playing, it couldn’t be stopped.”

Faren blinked. “What?”

“Whispered, wanting, waking. The notes have all been picked before. You can’t change the song, because you don’t know the notes. You aren’t the one that can sing something new.”

He was insane. Addled from battle or driven to madness long before, it didn’t matter. His words were so much insanity thrown to the wind, and it was pitiful that part of him had expected to find comfort from such a source. Faren turned away from him, tired of his nonsense, and tired of the world.

“Wait, that wasn’t right. I’ll try again. Later.”

When Faren turned to look again he was gone, and then he couldn’t seem to remember what he had been looking for in the first place.

***

Autumn wrapped her cloak tighter around her body as she strode out to the edge of their makeshift settlement, trying to keep the cold out as much as her identity in. She had nearly run away when they had all knelt before her, singing that cursed song, worshiping her as some religious icon that she could never be. The only thing that had held her sanity in check was when she had locked eyes with Cullen, and across the crowd he had sung to her. Then _his_ voice had been the only one she heard, as though the two of them were completely alone. Now though, now the pressure of the crowd was getting to her, and she needed a moment to be by herself. So she had grabbed her cloak with its warm hood, obscuring her face, and scurried around the throngs of exhausted and frightened people and out into the snow, continuing until she couldn't make out the words in the voices any longer and it became the pleasant hum of background noise.

It was peaceful in these mountains. They held a serenity around their obsidian peaks that made Autumn take a deep, calming breath whenever she saw them. It was good to have something to remind her to breathe now and again. After what she had gone through during her encounter with Corypheus she needed those reminders. She could still feel his hands on her, and it made her sick to her stomach every time. She hadn't talked about what had happened, not really. She gave enough information to Solas and Leliana so that they could understand it, but left out the parts about the way he had _played_ with her before trying to kill her.

She shuddered, feeling more than the cold seeping into her bones. That was not what she came out here to think about, she told herself sternly. She was walking towards a stand of trees that looked like it might provide a fallen log or so to sit on, and was surprised to notice that it was not empty. Solas sat on the ground amongst the sagging boughs, a delicate blue flame sparkling next to him. He must have heard her approach, because he looked up, and with a small smile gestured her to him.

“Good evening, Autumn.” he bowed his head, polite as ever. She was grateful to finally be around someone not trying to address her as the Herald of Andraste.

“Why are you all the way out here?” she sat down in the snow next to him. She could feel the cold against her bottom, but for now she didn't mind. It was good to sit with someone she felt like she knew.

“I could ask you the same, but I believe I can guess the answer you would give.” He gave her a comforting smile. “I am sorry you bear the burdens of so many, my friend.”

“Well...” she sighed and titled back her head, looking up at the stars through the pine needles scattering above her on the branches. She didn't actually have anything else to say, had no witty retort on the tip of her tongue like she usually would, so she let her words go and they sat in companionable quiet for a bit. The sky expanded above her, making her feel small under all that glittering space. It was good, somehow. Everyone kept trying to insist she was this big, important piece of what was going on. Maybe she was, she couldn't say. She didn't want to be, not truly, but the decision didn't seem to be up to her. So it was nice to look at the stars and feel like she was the same size she had always been. Still just a person with two feet on the ground, like everyone else.

“Solas?” she asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Yes?”

“How am I supposed to do this?” she kept her eyes on the stars. This conversation was easier without looking at him, without seeing what her fear would do to him. She didn't feel like she could meet anyone's eyes while she talked about the insurmountable task set before her. It made it too real. She sensed that he stared into the flames and not at her, which she appreciated more than she could every express. He always did seem to understand things like this without her having to explain them. He was very intuitive when it came to sensing when she needed him and what she needed from him. She loved her other friends, and they took away so much of her pain, but sometimes she needed the quiet reflection and information that only Solas could provide. Sometimes she needed someone to just sit with her and not expect her to be anything, not need her to be happy or brave, just someone who would let her exist for what she was.

“I have been meaning to discuss something with you.” he seemed to ignore her question, and she could tell he had no real answers for her. It was alright, though. That question could never have an answer, and it wasn't meant to. It was something that could only be found through the process, through bits and pieces along the way. The answer wouldn’t be clear until after it was all done, after it was no longer needed. She knew better than to ask such silly things.

“You can discuss anything with me.” she told him, because he seemed to be waiting for her to say something.

“The orb Corypheus carried...it is elven in origin.” he hesitated, a pause as meaningful as any words he could have added. She brought her gaze to his face, and saw the hint of fear in his eyes.

“Do you know much about it?”

“They are known as foci, old artifacts used to channel older magics. There was, as the stories would tell, a foci that belonged to each elven god, that held the key to the power they possessed..”

“Do we know which god this focus was for?”

He gave her a look that was so full of sorrow it made her heart break a little. “I'm sorry.”

Well, it had been worth a try to ask, but she supposed it wasn’t fair to expect Solas to know everything. “It's alright...” she trailed off again, letting words lapse while she stared blankly ahead. Finally she brought her head forward and looked at him. “What do we do now?” her voice was plaintive, her need for reassurance outweighing any semblance of decorum. No one seemed to know what their next step was. Closing the breach had been their goal, but that had obviously changed. Corypheus had changed that when he attacked them, when he had struck their town for vengeance and declared himself seeking godhood.

“That problem I may be able to solve. Through my time searching for answers, the spirits whispered of a place that could aid us. It is very old, and very forgotten by the people of this world. Somewhere to the north of us, in this quiet mountain range, there lies a fortress built with timeless strength that still stands, abandoned by its previous owners. It might become home to the Inquisition, if we choose to claim it.” he waited patiently for her reaction, his eyes unwavering as he gazed at her face.

“Why was it abandoned?” she was worried about mysterious holdings that were offered up by spirits for free.

“It is hard to say, I am afraid.” he smiled at her though, guessing her fears. “You have no cause for concern. From what I have gathered, it was abandoned because of old magics in the stone, driving away the unworthy.”

“And you think the Inquisition is worthy?” she watched him as he looked up into the sky, the starlight reflected in his eyes like an endless mirror. Then he stood, waving the fire out with a practiced flick of his hand. In the dark starlight he looked down at her, his gaze full of mystery and promise.

“I think _you_ are worthy, my friend.” and with that he walked away, his quiet footsteps carrying him until he disappeared into the night as snow started to fall from clouds that rolled out of nowhere.

Autumn stayed there for sometime, soaking in the quiet of the woods. His believe in her touched her deeply. They all did, really. She could feel their faith pressing against her, smashing her heart inside her chest and leaving her no room to breathe. Somehow she managed to take another breath, though, and then another. Her lungs filled and deflated and her heart still beat a steady rhythm. It had to, she had to. She didn't choose this life, but she was not going to let it get the best of her. For the sake of everyone she had met, she would pull through. Standing up, she brushed the snow off of the bottom of her cloak, and with a last glance at the heavy sky she started walking back to the camp to find something constructive to do, sending out a silent prayer that she would be able to do what was right with the responsibilities she had been handed.

***

He supervised as the fresh batch of recruits were brought into the room and strapped to the wooden beds. In the beginning they had lined them with mattresses, but it became clear that it was an unnecessary comfort after the first few rounds. Cotton and stuffing wouldn’t help them anymore than their pleading cries.

Samson watched as his men brought in the doses of red lyrium and began administering them to the men and women who hadn’t known what they were volunteering for. One by one they were force fed glory, and one by one it took its effect.

The screams of pain no longer fazed him. The first time he had seen the transformation it had been hard to watch, to see men contorn in pain until they became something… _else._ Sometimes they retained their shapes, sometimes they morphed into hulking monsters as the lyrium worked its wonders. Burning flesh and severed fade would fill the room with acrid smoke, but he had grown used to that as well. Once he had seen them fight he had known he was doing the right thing. These men were no longer mere templars, no longer mere soldiers. They were warriors with the strength of a god in their veins, and Samson had led them all to a destiny worth having.

Corypheus had seen the worth within Samson. All his life he had struggled in the shadows of other people, but no more. A god had seen his potential, had recognized his grit and determination, his ability to survive when the entire world wanted him dead. No more would he be the beggar, filthy and shaking as he scrambled for the lyrium the chantry had said he needed. Now he was General Raleigh Samson, commander of the deadliest army that Thedas had ever seen our would ever see again. Now he was afforded all the opportunity that had been denied to him, and he would use that to take revenge for all the slights that he had suffered over his life.

It was only fitting that the other side of this battle was led by Cullen. Destiny, that was what Corypheus had given him. Samson was going to grip that destiny with ironclad hands and tear it down from the heavens, to take it for himself as he always should have done.

A woman from the other end of the room shrieked loud enough to shatter a glass vial, sending precious red liquid tumbling to the floor. The templar standing over her cuffed the side of her head with enough force to snap her jaw, but still she screamed, the sound garbled around the blood filling her throat. Samson strode forward and picked up the bottle, lifting it to the light to watch a drop of lyrium glide its way down to the jagged edge, hovering between staying and falling as the candlelight turned it to ruby fire. Then it fell, dashing itself onto the stonework below. He crushed the remains of the glass in his fist, feeling it cut into his palm, feeling the warm tingle of the lyrium as it sank into his blood. The rush of burning pain and heady numbness reminded him that destiny was not so easily taken. The woman in the bed choked on her blood, drowning in herself as her body twisted and writhed. She stopped moving, her eyes glassing over and filling with read. Another one for the mines.

From one of the rooms down the hall he heard a different kind of scream, and he didn’t blame his men for flinching. Corypheus was fuming. What had happened at Haven was unworthy, should not have happened and should not have been possible. This woman, this “pretender”, was playing with magic she didn’t deserve, and it was her doing that had brought about their failure. Corypheus chose to take out his disappointment on those around him that embodied the word. Samson didn’t say a word. If his men were stupid enough to get in his way, then they deserved the fate they received. Survival was for the strong and the wise, not the stupid or unlucky.

Samson was unconcerned about their loss. It grated at him, filling him with anger, but he did not possess any doubt. There was no way that a mere _woman_ could stop their plans. Corypheus would succeed, and remake the world, and those that had were deemed fit would live kneeling at his feet. They would cow this Herald, teach her to obey and bow. Corypheus had already talked at length of the ways that he would break her. It stirred something deep and hungry within Samson to hear him speak of it. There were many women that he had known, many that had spurned him and had been deserved to be taught a lesson. None more than this one, however. His stomach clenched as he pictured the things that he could do to her…

He shook his head to clear it, brining himself back to the moment, his ears ringing from the gut wrenching shrieks of pain. He needed to stay focused. These men and women needed his attention right now, needed him to help them see the way. Not all of the remaining templars would take the treatments willingly, and it would be his task to bring them into the light. This was the right side to be on, the side that would lead them down the path of righteousness. Even when they refused, even when words were not enough to convince them, it was his duty to force the lyrium down their throats. He would open their minds, use the lyrium to grant them unlimited power, and in that they would see the error of their conviction. They would burn down the chantry, with its lies and brainwashing. They would burn down the world, and rebuild it from the ashes into something greater, something more pure. With the red lyrium flowing through their veins and the will of Corypheus to guide them they would no longer be burdened with troubles or choices. They would know only glory and obedience. They would be the perfect army.

Samson smiled as one of the men ripped the bindings on the table, lurching forward with arms made of crimson blades. It screeched at the templars before it, its chest heaving with great gasping breaths. He strolled over with careful, calculated movements, and the creature watching him with wide, fearful eyes.

“Hush now. You're among family.” He placed a hand on the side of its head, and it closed its eyes and hummed in approval. “Welcome to glorious destiny.”

Samson laughed darkly as he thought of all the things he would do to make the world pay with his newfound power.

 


	20. Hummingbird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cole is accepted, Varric explains the nickname, Solas has feelings, and Cullen is very grumpy.

Cole could hear so many voices. They were crowded all around his head, but it didn’t bother him very much. Some were louder than others, so he listened to those and let the others hum in the back of his mind.

_Watching, waiting, why is he always making jokes, can he never take anything seriously for a moment. So smug and self righteous, how can he even stand to be around himself, why does his smile stick in the back of my mind…_

The tall woman was angry, and confused. Her thoughts were built in layers that hid the important parts even from herself. He wasn’t sure how to help her yet, and she was afraid of him. A lot of them were afriad of him. It hurt, in the parts of his chest where it felt like happiness should be, in the parts of him that remembered what it was like to have a friend.

_She_ was bright and warm, though, and she didn’t look at him with sharp edges. He had followed her light from very far away, letting it lead him to them so that he could warn them. He hadn’t been quick enough, and maybe if he had still been on the other side he could have been quicker. He wondered if he could still do that, to pass between the doorways. Maybe he could find out.

He liked helping though, it made him feel better, it made the darkness go away. He could help much better on this side, though sometimes it was still hard and confusing. People on this side sometimes liked it better when he was not, but he couldn’t change it now.

He liked to listen to his new friends. A lot of people in the Inquisition didn’t like him, but the ones that touched her listened and looked at him like they wanted to understand, like they wanted him to be real. Worry, fear, distrust, but never yelling, never driving him away. He liked it when he was with them.

He could feel Autumn and Solas behind him, talking about him. He could hear the feelings but not the words.

Solas, _confusion, how can this be, so close to what was but not the same, still missing so much, could it come back again, could never ask, what was done cannot be undone, it is never that simple…_ dark blankness, hidden thoughts that Cole couldn’t see.

Autumn, _warm, soft, gentle, look at him he is so frail, I am not afraid of him, he helped and that matters, kindness in his eyes, just because I don’t understand doesn’t make it his fault, deserves a chance, deserves our chance. He helped, so he’s family, and she will help them understand so he could stay._

Cole was glad he came.

***

“So, should we be concerned?” Autumn huffed out the question to Solas as they walked together along the mountain path. Cole, the strange boy that no one seemed to be able to remember, meandered in front of them. He was an oddity, to say the least. He had an air of simplicity and innocence about him, but there was also a darkness that lurked in his strange eyes, and that darkness put many people on edge. At least, for as long as they remembered that he existed. Once Cole moved out of their sight he seemed to slip out of their memories, with only a few of them actually recalling him once he had gone.

“I do not feel as though he is a threat, if that is what you are asking. However, you should know that I do not believe he is entirely human, either. His strange abilities are like nothing I have seen, or nothing that I can recall having seen.” He gave her a wry smile as she laughed.

“If he isn’t human, than what is he?” Autumn watched as Cole hopped on a rock and stood on one leg, his arms spread out to keep balance. He appeared, for all intents and purposes, to be a boy of seventeen, though a pale and underfed one.

Solas stopped walking, leaning against his staff and considering the question. “It is possible that he is a spirit, perhaps brought through the veil from the effects of the breach.”

“Spirit? Or demon?” she bit her lower lip to keep back a laugh as Cole toppled purposefully into a nearby snowdrift. “He certainly doesn’t seem like a demon.”

Solas smiled. “It is good of you to notice. I wish others of our number were as equally open minded.”

Autumn groaned. “I told them to leave him alone. Were they bothering him again?”

“Only for so long as they can remember him. He is quite adept at hiding from those that would mean him ill.” His eyes searched her own, looking for something that she could not discern. “Your willingness to trust something so unknown surprises me.”

“Oh?” she raised an eyebrow at him. “He is not so unknown. He’s done nothing but help since he got here, I don’t feel like I’m making a risky bet in assuming he’ll continue.” She puffed breath out of the side of her mouth, sending a wayward strand of hair up into the air.

Solas chuckled. “An excellent point.”

“It doesn’t matter to me what he is. The Inquisition shouldn’t turn away people that want to help. I would like him to stay with us, if possible. If he wants to, that is.”

Cole turned around to face them, snow sticking to his straw blonde hair. “Thank you.” His sincerity pulled at her heart strings, but before she could respond he turned and bounced further down the trail and out of earshot.

“You do him a kindness he did not expect, it seems.” He watched Cole go, resting his chin in his hand thoughtfully. “Autumn, may I ask you something?”

“Of course. I’m an open book.”

“Have you always felt as you do?”

“About what, exactly? You might have to be more specific than that, I have feelings about many things.” She bumped her shoulder against his to let him know that she was teasing him, and he smiled and shook his head at her.

“Since I have known you, you have shown a willingness, even a desire, to accept the unknown and embrace new knowledge. It is rare to come by someone capable of such…fearlessness. I am wondering if it is a habit you have developed due to your current circumstances or not.” He frowned, thoughtful and somber, and she had to smile widely in response.

“No, as far as I know I’ve always been this reckless. My father always said it was something in my hair that made me crazy.”

“I see.” He replied pensively. “Where is your father now?”

Autumn stopped short, swallowing the bile that had abruptly risen to the back of her throat. “Not here, and that’s all that matters.”

Solas placed a hand on her shoulder, his brow furrowed in concern. “My apologies, I did not mean to pry into a painful subject.”

She smiled, and she wondered if it looked as false as it felt. “Don’t worry about it. Everybody has a past they’d rather not have.” His eyes clouded and he pulled back, so she linked her arm with his, pulling him forward in a brisk march. “Come one, lets go find this mystery castle before we get caught in another blizzard. I am _very_ over blizzards.”

Half of his mouth twitched upward in a smile, and she returned the gesture, and they pair of them mutually ignored the fact that the shadows in their eyes did not disperse.

***

Varric chuckled at Cullen, watching as the man flushed every time Autumn looked his way. He knew better than to talk about the man's obvious infatuation directly. Knowing the Commander he, would probably run away in horror or have him flogged for indiscretion. Cullen no longer took to teasing as easily as he used to back in Kirkwall. Of course, after the shitshow that happened in Kirkwall, Varric couldn’t blame him. He was fairly content to sit back and just enjoy the show, in any case. He could tell Cullen thought that he was being discreet, hiding the way he felt from all. It amused Varric to no end that the only person he seemed to be successfully hiding things from was the object of his affections. Autumn was the only one who didn't know Cullen was head over heels for her, and Cullen was probably one of the few people that was actually close to Autumn who hadn't realized she returned the sentiment. Ah, two would be lovers kept apart by duty and decorum, both of them straining against the confines of their responsibility and itching to rip each other’s clothing and have at it. It was enough to make Varric want to start a new book series all about their steam laden romance. If he based it on the pace they had currently set for themselves he could get eight books in - minimum - before he even had to write the first kiss.

_Crap_ , Varric’s thoughts were interrupted as Cullen happened to glance over and noticed the big grin the author hadn't bothered hiding. The Commander waved and started marching through the snow towards him, a smile of greeting on his face. At least he didn't look angry.

“Varric, how fares the trek?” he asked when he got close enough to talk to him.

“Cold, long...Hummingbird hasn't mentioned to you how far away this mythical castle _is_ by any chance, has she?”

Cullen chuckled, a half smile twisting his lips. “Not to me, you'd have to ask Solas.” Cullen regarded Varric for a moment, his eyes full of question before he found the words to actually ask it. “Why do you call her Hummingbird?”

“Ah, I knew you were going to ask me that sooner or later.” Varric laughed, his breath making puffs of mirth in the air.

“Well, it’s certainly unique. I can guess at the meaning of most of the other names you toss around for everyone, but I have to admit hers has me stumped.” he shrugged amicably.

“Part of it is how she looks. That bright red hair, those deep green eyes...they remind me of the colors you see on a hummingbird in the sun. Iridescent, almost.” Cullen was staring across the path towards her, watching her intently while Varric talked. “Then there's how she is in battle. She's fast, fluttering around just like a hummingbird would, with those lightning quick little wings that you can barely see, a lot like how she uses her daggers.” Cullen's face had adopted a bemused grin, eyes locked on Autumn. Varric wasn’t certain he was still fully listening to the answer to his question, but he continued on all the same. “Lastly, it's who she is. She reminds me a lot of hummingbirds because they are so beautiful, but so rare. You can go years, maybe even your whole life depending on where you live, without ever seeing one, and when you do it always leaves you feeling like you caught a glimpse of magic, of something good still left in the world that bad things just can't catch.” Cullen sighed airily, and Varric was convinced that he was unaware he was still talking to him, lost in his own lovesick thoughts. Then, as though remembering where he was, the Commander straightened and cleared his throat. He smiled over at Varric, his eyes full of appreciation, although Varric couldn't tell if it was for him or her.

“It's a good name, Varric. Stick with it.” he clapped him on the back and walked ahead, their conversation apparently done. Varric shook his head at the man's retreat. Poor guy was going to melt the snow on the Frostbacks with all that subdued passion. He would have to try and find a way to get those two lovebirds together whenever they found their way out of the miserable frozen tundra.

***

Solas watched her carefully as she climbed over the next ridge. They were far ahead of the rest of the entourage, scouting to see how much farther it would be until they reached the ancient fortress. Their conversation had dwindled to a minimum, content to merely move forward together, their breath puffing into the air and mingling with the cold to create wispy clouds that danced around their heads.

Her face was flushed from walking, from the cold, and the tip of her little nose was bright pink. He wasn't sure why that detail kept coming to the forefront of his attention.

She reached the top of the ridge and stopped, staring out at whatever was below. As quickly as he could he joined her, and saw what had given her pause. Beyond the rocky teeth of the Frostbacks, nestled in a rolling valley was the massive, and largely intact, fortress of Skyhold. It was an impressive sight, tall towers resting just on top the mountain peak, a bastion of strength that would give hope to them all He turned to look at her, to see her reaction.

Solas felt his breath leave his lungs. The pure joy and exuberance on her face was blinding. Her smile was bright, her eyes dancing, she looked so completely _alive_ that he felt as though he had not known what the word truly meant until this moment.

She leaped forward, jumping into his arms in an ungraceful hug, the momentum spinning them both around before he could stop it. She was laughing, loud and clear, the sound echoing off the snow covered crags and sky.

“Solas, it's brilliant! It's perfect! It's _home_! How can I ever repay you?” she pulled out of the hug to look at him, leaving an emptiness in his arms.

“I require no thanks, my friend.” _This moment was enough_ , he thought, but did not say aloud.

“Come on, we have to go tell the others.” she positively glowed. That glow that he had noticed all those many days ago, before he even really knew her, shining through. She was a light in a dark, dark world.

Of all the things he had known were coming, she had not been among them. He had never factored her into his plans, never intended things to go this way. How could one person change him so much in so little time?

The disquiet in his heart was deafening.

*******

Cullen's joints ached. His muscles felt like they were ready to fall apart from the tremors. The headache was enough to drive him to snapping at anyone that tried to talk with him.

It was terrible timing. He had been hoping that he could avoid a bad day until after they had reached whatever magical fortress in the sky the blasted apostate was leading them to. Now he was stuck somewhere in the middle of the mountains in the throes of withdrawal. It was harder to keep himself composed, harder to hide his issues with everyone around, all looking to him for strength when their own was failing. To make matters worse, the hike itself was grueling, and he was only compounding the duress on his body by losing sleep and avoiding food.

“How is my stalwart Commander today?”

“Fine.” he growled, even as he turned to see who had managed to sneak up on him and speak. He immediately regretted letting his dark thoughts get the better of him as he looked down into the hurt swimming in Autumn’s upturned eyes.

“I'm sorry...” she blinked away her surprise, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she looked away.

“Forgive me, Autumn. You...startled me.” he sighed heavily. Now he was offending her. Yet another thing to add to the list of things he would regret before his withdrawals killed him.

“Are you alright?” she sounded so serious, so concerned. It only served to irritate him further. He didn't need her, of all people, to see him as the weak, shuddering man he had become.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Don't lie to me, Cullen.” Maker curse her stubborn, obstinate nature. He could not face this right now.

“Are you fine?” he snapped. She recoiled from the ferocity of the question.

“Yes, why wouldn't I be?” she was trying to sound upbeat, trying to turn the tide of the conversation.

“Oh, I don't know, falling out of the fade, traveling to a nightmare future, nearly dying several times over, or maybe leaping into danger doesn't concern you as much as it does me?” he was angry, and he couldn't stop the verbal onslaught from pouring out. “Don't lie to me either, Autumn.” he added, softer but not soft enough to erase the sting by half. He was being a fool and he knew it, but this headache would not grant him peace enough to think clearly.

She turned and started to walk away, before stopping for a moment. “We are almost there, in case you wanted to know.” Icy anger dripped from her voice and settled into a thick pool in the middle of his heart. Then she stalked off, and Cullen was left to wonder just how many times a man could make an idiot of himself before the Maker took pity on him and struck him down.

 


	21. Your Inquisitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a leader is chosen.

Skyhold was...there were almost no words to describe it. It was ancient, the masons and workers already set to the task of repairing the damage commenting on just how many layers existed in the old stones. Solas had said that it was most likely an old elven fortress, at one point, but had been occupied and abandoned so many times by so many people after that, it was impossible to say what origin it could rightly claim now.

It was beautiful, too. Autumn spent the first day there just walking in circles around the battlements, staring out at the mountains just to look at them. It made her feel like she was part of the sky, reaching down to touch the world with the tips of her toes. Outside of the fort there were sheer cliffs, mounds of snow and rock that were unforgiving to try and scout, but for some reason inside there was plant life, an oasis of green in the middle of nowhere. There was a small garden, currently completely overgrown, a large courtyard that had an upper and lower section, and beautiful trees were dotting both sections liberally. One of her favorite things about the fort were the birds, however. There were what seemed like thousands of birds living in Skyhold. She couldn't look to the sky without seeing several flying around, darting back and forth playfully, stark colors against the deep blue background. Their songs filled the keep, which made it incredibly hard to maintain a bad mood.

Her mind was certainly doing its best in that regard, however. Autumn knew that she had a right to be upset. Several excellent reasons, in fact, as Cullen had so unhelpfully pointed out the other day. But she felt like everyone in this Maker forsaken Inquisition always had their eyes on her, watching her every single move. If she appeared sad how would they feel? What would it do to the soldier with the festering leg wound if he saw their Herald walk by with a pitiful look on her face? She was supposed to be some brave savior. Didn't that mean she had to be all smiles and brave speeches?

She was sort of hoping that now they were in Skyhold and the breach was sealed she wouldn't be relied on to lead so much. She was not cut out for this sort of thing. She had done her very best before, operating from Haven. She had smiled and shook hands and kept her back straight even when all she wanted to do was lay down and never get back up again. She knew how much the idea of her being the Herald of Andraste could get them, so whether she believed it or not she had tried to at least _sort of_ live up to the title and bring people to the cause. She _did_ believe in the cause, so that had helped. But there was only so much she could do. She was a sarcastic, callous bitch who had never really wanted to take anything seriously before. She wasn't cut out to lead the faithful.

Then people like Solas, who was possibly the smartest, most well traveled person she had ever met, could look her in the eye and say that they believed in her. Her chest still constricted every time she remembered that night. He had look so...convinced. It wasn't like he was the only one, either. All the people that crowded into their mountain home looked at her without any doubt in their eyes. It was so fucking heavy, to bear that much confidence from others.

If she were smart, she would pack a bag and sneak out tonight. Dress in black, paint her face like she used to when she broke out of the estate to escape the next asinine moron her father found to court her. She could be out of Skyhold and tangled in the sheets with some nameless man in a tavern by morning. The idea would probably have been tempting if she weren't fully aware the only man she wanted to tangle in sheets with was Cullen. Who was apparently angry at her, for some reason. Or she was angry at him. She didn't even remember anymore.

Right, she was trying not to dwell on miserable thoughts, she reminded herself. Getting up off of the cot she was lounging on, she decided that she needed to go find something useful to do, before she worried herself right off a cliff. She opened the door to the room and stepped out into the bright courtyard of the keep, smiling up at the birds as they darted to and fro. She saw all the advisors standing next to Cassandra, as though waiting for her. Cullen gave her a small smile as Cassandra waved her over. Okay, maybe he's not mad at me, she thought as she walked over.

***

Cullen stepped aside discreetly as Cassandra greeted her. He walked with Josephine into the crowd of people waiting in the lower courtyard while she walked off with the Seeker, carefully guided on the path they needed her to tread. He knew what Cassandra should be saying to her. He knew what they were about to offer her.

“Do you think she'll agree?” Josephine asked him. She had hesitated to do this so publicly, reasoning that if Autumn had refused to be the Inquisitor it would have been a massively demoralizing spectacle. Leliana and Cullen had assured her that she would not refuse, however. He knew her better than that by now.

“In the time that I have known her, she has sometimes been stubborn, sarcastic, irreverent, and reckless. But there are two things that she almost always does: never refuses to help someone who asks, and never backs down from a challenge.” Cullen smiled as Josephine laughed at the observation.

“All too true, Commander.”

His eyes were transfixed on her as she reached the landing where Leliana was holding the ceremonial blade, waiting to present it to her. The sun caught on her curls, lighting them up so that she seemed to be radiating glowing inspiration. He watched her, feeling his heart beating a mile a minute, and waited for her to accept. He knew that she would. He knew she was right for this. Most of all, he knew that he would follow her to the Void and back if she asked him to.

***

“I...I don't know what to say.” Autumn stammered as she looked from Leliana to Cassandra. She swallowed, her throat suddenly too small to fit her clumsy tongue. “Why me?”

Cassandra snorted. “You took charge the minute we dragged you to the Hinterlands. Autumn, you've been leading us for a long time now. This is the title you have earned through your actions.” Cassandra told her warmly, pride and trust written all over her face.

“You have done an excellent job up to this point, and you will continue to do so. You will give this Inquisition its leader, and its direction. We trust you implicitly.” Leliana added.

Autumn looked out at the crowd of people below, looking back up at her with awe. It was enough to make her tremble, her heart fluttering weakly against her ribs. So many eyes, waiting to see what she would do...then she saw Cullen.

She met his gaze, and the rest of the rabble faded until he was the only one there with her. He was looking at her with so much surety that it made her want to collapse. His belief, though, his faith, truly meant something. It calmed her and gave her strength. She grabbed the hilt of the blade, lifting it into her hand. It was surprisingly light for something with so many different embellishments. She turned to the crowd, her gaze panning over them. This was what she was now. This was who she had to be. For all of them. For Thedas. For him.

“We fought to close the breach when no one else would. And we succeeded. We fought to survive when those who wished to see us fall came for us. And we succeeded. Our Inquisition will prevail. We will sustain. We will fight for what is true, what is pure, for what the people of this world need.” her voice rang out over those gathered, a thunderclap in a silent plain. “We fight for what is right.”

Cassandra stepped forward. “Commander,” her voice firm and as loud as Autumn's had been. “Will our people follow?”

Cullen met her eyes again. He looked at her so fiercely that she couldn't breathe, so she didn't bother. She held her breath and held his gaze.

He turned to the people, his back straight and his shoulders proud. “Inquisition, will you follow?” The crowd let out a burst of cheering as he walked in front of them. “Will you fight?” He crossed to the other side of the courtyard and drew his sword. The crowd cheered louder. “Will we succeed?” The people cried out again, the echoes growing louder, but still his voice could be heard loud and clear over the din. “I give you your Herald, your leader, _your_ _Inquisitor_!” He held the sword aloft and she answered with her own, two blades raised in tandem, a silent pledge of determination, dedication to the cause.

She would not let them down.

 


	22. No Lies, No Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they talk.

 

When he walked into the room that he had established as his office, he was forced to yelp and nearly dropped everything he was carrying in surprise to see Autumn sitting on his desk. No, not sitting. She was perched there, one leg tucked underneath her while the other shot out to rest on the seat of a chair next to it. She looked like a beautiful bird, resting there, threatening to take flight if he moved too quickly.

He searched her face, looking for any sign of lingering anger from their regrettable conversation a few days ago. She didn't look angry so much as determined. She was holding a piece of paper, well worn as though it had been looked at often, playing with the fold absently as she gazed at him, green eyes burning across his skin.

Slowly, as though afraid she might spook, he walked over and set the books and scrolls in his arms down on the desk, the side she was not currently occupying. He didn't say anything, but leaned against the edge of the tabletop, crossing his arms and waiting.

“You said if I ever needed to talk I could. I have it in writing, in case you don't believe me.” she waved the paper in his face. The note, he realized, she had the note that he had left her when she was injured. He was sure she had forgotten about that, since she had never said anything about it afterward.

“I -”

“Nope, wait, there's rules.” He snapped his mouth shut, waiting again for her to speak. “Right, so. I talk, you talk. No lies, no secrets.”

“I can't imagine why you would want to know about me.” he said carefully, trying to decide if this arrangement would be wonderful or terrible.

She scowled at him. “No deflecting, either.”

He watched her intently, searching her face as he mulled over the proposal. “Alright. Deal.” he said finally, nodding his head to accentuate the agreement.

She relaxed visibly. “Okay, good. You start.”

“Not a chance, that's deflecting. You came to me, you start.” he settled more comfortably against the desk. She furrowed her brows.

“Ugh. I would but...Maker's balls, Cullen, where? Where do I even begin?”

He laughed at her consternation. “Alright, how about this. I ask you a question, you ask me one. We'll work through it slowly.”

“Yes, that's good, but can we find someplace less likely to be harangued by soldiers?” she glanced towards the three doorways that led out to the different battlements, her nerves showing on her face as she chewed on her lower lip.

He mulled it over. “I know a place, but I can't exactly get away for awhile. Can you meet me back here, say, a couple hours after dinner?”

She nodded as she said, “Yeah, sounds good. Don't stand me up, Cullen.” she hopped off the desk and skipped out of the room before he could form a response. Maker, what had he just agreed to?

***

When she showed up in his office several hours later she came dressed in a dark green tunic, dark brown leather breeches, and bearing a bottle of very expensive looking whiskey. She grinned at him impishly when she saw him take notice.

“I brought us liquid courage, Maker knows I'm going to need it.” she shook the bottle. “You ready to spirit me away to your secret hideaway?”

“Absolutely, my lady. Just let me finish signing this report and I'm all yours.” he smiled at her before dipping his head back down to finish looking over the next day’s schedule, making sure everything was in order before he gave it the stamp of approval. He could feel her eyes on him, making it very difficult to concentrate.

He finished his task, signed the report, and stood up, stretching before walking around the desk to join her by the door. She was looking at him with an unreadable expression on her face. “Regretting our deal?” he asked quietly.

“Not at all. Just...I forget sometimes what you look like under all that armor.” he looked down at himself, realizing that he wasn't wearing it as he normally would, having already taken it off for the night.She held up a hand as he looked back at her. “No no, don't smirk or I might go insane. Let's go before I lose my nerve.”

He smirked anyways, but she didn't comment. Opening the door and walking out, he led her across the bridge from his office, through the round room Solas was setting up as his own, through the great hall, and down the stairwell just inside the door to Josephine's office. Eventually they made it to the dusty library that he had found down there that nobody else seemed interested in coming to.

“How did you even find this place?” she asked, her eyes wide as she walked in front of the shelves, examining the books there. She reached up and trailed her finger along the spines of the tomes.

“I was actually lost, believe it or not. When I found my way back I made sure to remember the place.” he shrugged.

“Why?”

“I like to read, and there are a lot of books here I haven't even heard of. That was two questions, by the way.” he chuckled when she snapped her head towards him.

“No fair, that doesn't count.”

He held up his hand and waggled a finger at her. “No deflecting.” she scowled again, but he could see the good humor in her eyes.

They settled into a pair of chairs after much clearing of cobwebs and checking for spiders, and she opened the bottle, producing two glasses out of nowhere, as Cullen had no idea where she had been keeping them. She poured, handing him one, but they both set them on the dusty desk next to them without drinking anything yet.

“Alright, sirrah. I believe it's your turn, if we are to play by your rules.” she bowed her head in mock formality.

He thought about what he wanted to say for a moment. He did have carte blanche to find out whatever he wanted, but he decided to start easy. “Where did you learn to fight?”

“Ha! You're going easy on me, then. When I was younger my mother insisted I learn some sort of combat skill. It quickly became one of my favorite hobbies. After she passed away and my tutors were sent away I found my own, mostly in taverns and alleyways, a lot of it from scrapping with men who didn't know what they were getting into.” she squirmed in her seat, biting her lower lip. “No secrets?” she asked.

“No secrets.” he nodded.

“I got most my skills from an ex Antivan Crow who said I reminded him of someone. He taught me almost everything I know, took my maidenhead, then disappeared into the shadows.”

Cullen was careful to keep his face neutral. “Leave on good or bad terms?” his eyebrow twitched up just a little.

“Good. I didn't want him around, it wasn't like that. I was more disposing of my virginity than he was taking it, honestly. Sorry, this was probably too much information.”

“No secrets means no secrets.” he smiled at her to show her that he didn't mind. “I believe it's your turn, my lady.”

She screwed up her face as she considered. “Okay, I'll go easy on you, too. Where did you get the scar?”

Cullen's eyebrows rose high on his head. “Which one?”

She tilted her head back and laughed. “Oh, come one, that surely counts as deflecting.” When he simply shrugged she was forced to elaborate. _“The_ scar, Cullen. The one above your lip.”

He laughed. “Oh, that one. I got it during the mage uprising in Kirkwall, dove in front of a blade for a...an ex-friend.”

“Was that a secret I heard slip in there?” her lips twitched with a smile that she was trying to hide.

“Fine, fine. I took a blow to keep Meredith from taking off Anders' head. He was a friend to me, at one point, but I don't consider him as such anymore after what he did.” she winced at his admission.

“Ah, sorry, guess that question wasn't as easy as I thought it would be.” He waved off her concern, taking a sip of his drink to recollect his composure. “Take your turn, then, sir.”

“Tell me about your family.”

“Ugh, I'm not deflecting I swear, but one: that wasn't a question, and two: you are gonna half to narrow it down a bit or we might be here forever.”

He laughed. “Alright, then. You mentioned your mother, let's start there.”

She squirmed again. She really wasn't comfortable opening up to people. “That still wasn't a question, but fine. I don't remember much of my mother, actually. I remember that she used to encourage me a lot, she liked to tell me curiosity was the most important thing a person could have. She loved to see me learning things. She passed away when I was still pretty young, like ten, I think. I know that I should have more memories but I don't. “ she shrugged.

“How did she die?”

“I...I think my father killed her, but I can't prove it. They found her poisoned one day, but nobody was ever caught.”

He nodded somberly. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. The loss of my mother wasn't so hard to bear. It was the things that came later that were terrible, but that I will save for another question. My turn?”

“Ask away.”

“What was wrong the other day, in the mountains?”

He grimaced. He had known that question was coming, but he still didn't want to answer it. No secrets, though. He'd promised, and he was committed to keeping to his word. “When I left the Templar order and joined the Inquisition I stopped taking lyrium. I have started to suffer from the withdrawals that come with that, and that day was a particularly difficult day, which made me angry enough to act like an idiot in front of you...for which I am sorry.”

She accepted the apology with a brief nod. “Can that...I mean, I heard you couldn't quit that once you started.”

“It hasn't really been done, no. Or, I should say not without the person attempting it going mad, or dying.” he looked away, couldn't stand how wide her green eyes had just become.

“Cullen, if you could die from this -”

“It hasn't killed me yet.” he said firmly, refusing to meet her gaze.

“I...are you in pain?”

“It's nothing I can't endure.”

“That was a deflection, I meant are you in pain _right now?”_

He looked back at her again, and seeing the raw concern in her eyes he sighed. “Yes and no. The worst of it comes and goes. I have relatively good days and very bad days. Today I only have a minor headache, which is really not so bad. During the worst of it I get shaky, sore, feverish, delirious, headaches that feel like my brain is splitting in two, and an almost complete loss of appetite, or the inability to keep anything down if I manage to eat.. Oh, and endless and relentless nightmares.” There, no secrets, he thought.

She stood up, her lips pursed in a somber frown. “Alright, close your eyes and ask your next question, and no complaining about what I'm going to do.”

He watched her curiously for a moment before he did as she bade, closing his eyes. He heard her move around to the back of his chair.

“What are you -”

“Don't finish that unless it counts as your question.” she admonished with a small laugh. He risked a peek back at her, cracking open his eyes just enough to see her through his lashes, and saw that she was smiling at him. Then she lifted her hands and ran them through his hair, gently massaging his scalp. He could not help the groan of pleasure that tore itself from his lips. The contact was bliss, his headache evaporating under her skillful touch.

“Maker, Autumn, you really were sent by Andraste to save us all.” he joked as she moved downward to cover the muscles on the base of his neck.

“Maybe just you, stubborn ass.” he could hear the smile in her words and grinned up at her, keeping his eyes closed still because it just felt too good to open them.

“Alright, question...Tell me about what happened in Redcliffe. What happened in the future?”

“Do you want me to skip all the official parts?”

“Just tell me how you felt about it all, although now I'm curious which parts were unofficial.” her hands paused for a second before she started speaking and massaging again at the same time.

“It was horrifying. Everything was destroyed, as though another explosion had gone off in Redcliffe after I disappeared. Then to find the others in the state they were in...Bull nearly cried when he saw me, he was so torn up over my death, and Solas actually _did_ lose his cool, practically begging Dorian to do the impossible and save me. Then....” she paused, her voice breaking. “There wasn't a lot of detail about this in the story Dorian told, I think he was trying to protect me somehow by keeping it on the down low. You knew we found you there, right?”

“It was mentioned that I joined you to help you escape, yes.” he couldn't feel very alarmed at her words when her hands were back in his hair, running her deft fingers up and down the length of his head. Part of him registered her pain, but as he couldn’t understand why the fact was unable to overpower the pleasant tingling buzzing at the back of his mind.

“I heard you screaming, all the way from the other side of a corridor. I heard your screams and I just...took off. I kicked down the damn door to get in there, I didn't even know I could kick like that but I destroyed the fucking hinges. You were...it was bad. You had definitely been there for a long time. You were chained to the fucking ceiling and they were burning your flesh away. Then you said you had looked for me for _months,_ for the entire year that I had been missing, that you never gave up hope. You insisted on helping me, us, try to get back even though you were only barely able to stand...then I watched you die right before Dorian pulled us back through.”

Her hands were shaking, so he reached up and took hold of them. For a moment neither of them spoke, and he held her until the trembling subsided. “I'm sorry. I know saying it won't really help, but it wasn't real.”

“No, but that's the worst part, it _was_ real. I know it won't happen, but it wasn't like some trick of the fade, some bullshit in a nightmare. I actually held you, and then I watched the light leave your eyes. So I guess the answer to the question you asked me in the pass is no, I'm not fine, not really, but what the fuck else do I do but soldier on anyways?”

He turned around in the chair so he could face her, still holding her hands and tightening his grip. “You move on and you remember what it did to you, and you remind yourself, as many times as it takes, that you will never let it become more real than it was.” the tears in her eyes were killing him slowly, and he knew exactly how she felt because every minute in the circle tower, every minute after the chantry blew in Kirkwall, ever minute of every bad day he had afterward felt like that.

She let go of his hands and grabbed her drink, downing it.

“I think that's about all I can handle for tonight.” she said with a shaky laugh. He stood up and wrapped her in a brief hug, wishing he could say more to ease her pain. “Next time we go more into your dark and mysterious past, sirrah.”

“I am the least mysterious man you'll ever meet.”

She laughed, shaking her head at him. “A bald faced lie if I ever heard one. I'll see you around, Cullen.” she said as she moved past him and left the room. Cullen sighed and followed soon after, wondering if he had helped at all.

It bothered him most of all that he knew there was no help for it, only to endure. He lived with that every day, but the fact that she was forced to do the same seemed to be the world’s greatest injustice. Fate could be as unkind to him as it liked, but he prayed that it would release its hold on her, before she shattered under the pressure.

For her sake, as well as his.

 


	23. You Change Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Varric sends a letter, the Druffalo are remembered, and Autumn takes a stroll through the fade.

_Hey,_

_Well, shit._

_First I guess I should say yes, I'm still alive. I was lucky._

_And before you worry, Curly made it too, although he doesn't seem to be doing so hot after everything._

_So I don't really know what to say or how to go about this, so I'm just gonna get right to the point: Corypheus is back. He was the one that took out Haven._

_I know that's not really possible, but it was definitely him, no doubt about it, and this time he has a fucking archdemon, because just him alone was obviously not fucked up enough._

_I really, really don't want to do this, and the Seeker is going to fucking kill me, but I think it might be time you paid me a visit. Our illustrious leader should talk to you about what's been going on, and you know a whole lot about killing crazy darkspawn monsters, particularly this one._

_Let me know if you can come and when to expect you. And for fucks sake stay safe, I can't handle anymore bad news right now._

_Love,_

_V._

 

The reports coming in weren’t great. The breach was sealed, but the cult of assholes running around in the name of Corypheus seemed to be more active. Leliana’s spies had found evidence of the subtle machinations in just about every corner of Thedas, now that they knew what they were looking for. The Venatori may be a secret, but they were a lot more widespread than they had originally thought.

Then there was Corypheus. The very same Corypheus that Hawke had choked with a rusty dagger. The very same that had his skull crushed under Anders’ very irate boot. What they had left in that warden prison hadn’t been alive anymore. It hadn’t even looked like it had ever _been_ alive when they had finished with it. Apparently that hadn’t stopped it from getting back up and raising an army, then tossing Autumn around like a rotten bag of apples. He had gotten his grimy hands on some ancient elven fuckery and was waving it around like a bauble, ripping holes in the sky and declaring himself a god. For a dead man, _thing,_ he was certainly industrious.

Varric sat staring at the letter in his hand, wishing he could concoct a good reason to crumple it up and throw it away without ever sending it to her. He didn’t want to drag her into this mess, but he knew she might be able to help, and there was a nasty streak of goodwill towards man in his heart that wouldn’t let him shrug his shoulders and let it all go. She had seen Corypheus before, had done a number on him, and she could offer more insight into what the _fuck_ they should do to stop him again. There was also her experience with red lyrium, and considering that it had been popping up more and more since this whole mess began, her expertise, however limited, might come in handy. She could help Autumn, and while he wished he could wave his arms and make all the bad disappear from both theirs lives, he couldn’t. So he figured he could at least bring them together and maybe they could kick the crap out of the bad guys together.

Varric cursed his luck, or skill, or horrible life choice, for finding exceptional women with incredibly bad things happening to them.

The messenger bird perched on the wall in front of him cawed angrily, hopping on its feet so that they clicked against the stone, impatient to be off. He lifted it and tied the letter to the raven’s legs, then tossed it into the air and let it fly. It flapped its wings as it carried itself up into the air, then caught an updraft and soared off over the mountains. Couldn’t take it back now, he supposed.

No help for it. He would just have keep doing what he could to keep these kids alive. Maybe they could save the world, while they were at it.

If Cassandra didn’t murder him first.

***

“Oy, shut it, wear this, follow me!” Sera's shrill voice startled Autumn out of what had been a very pleasant nap. She shot up in the bed in surprise, only to have a bundle of clothing tossed directly into her face.

“Sera, what -”

“I said shut it. Clothes, now, or we'll be late.”

Autumn gained her bearings enough to look at the elf, who was standing at the foot of her bed, arms crossed. She was coated almost head to toe in black, looking very somber and serious. Autumn glanced at the bundle of fabric that had been thrown at her. Holding it up, she realized it was a small black dress, simple and elegant.

“Are we under attack by someone that hates colors?” Autumn asked, but to keep Sera's ire at bay she got out of bed and started dressing.

“No, no, nothin of the like. Wowee Quizzee, you have a tits that don’t quit.” Sera's eyes had widened as she ogled Autumn's breasts after she pulled her sleeping shirt from over her head. Autumn bat her eyes at the elf.

“Oh, Sera, keep talking like that I might let you touch them.”

Sera waggled her finger at her. “None of that posh, you ain't foolin me. I seen the eyes you give Captain Commando.”

Autumn rolled her eyes. “Commando? Really? I thought we had been going with Steamypants?” Autumn pulled the dress on over her head, pleased with the fact that it seem to fit quite well, which was more than she was hoping for considering she was dealing with Sera.

“Oh, right, I forgot that one. He's a big man, room for two names, I say.” Sera waited all of five seconds after the dress was on and shoes were on her feet before grabbing Autumn's wrist and dragging her out of the room. Knowing better than to try and argue, Autumn was forced to run her fingers through her hair trying to tame it on the way. She was thankful that she kept the unruly curls short, or this would be a downright emergency.

Sera pulled her down the many flights of stairs that led up to her room, straight across the great hall, and out into the little garden that had been cleared out in the earlier weeks after their arrival. Autumn was surprised to see the entire inner circle waiting there, all looking equally confused, and adorned in black. Autumn had the distinct impression she was attending a funeral of some kind.

Sera finally let her go, flitting off to another part of the garden without another word, and Autumn made her way to stand next to Cullen, Leliana, and Dorian.

“Do you guys know what’s going on?” she whispered to them. Three heads shook a confused 'no'. Sera didn't leave them in the lurch for long, however. She climbed on top of the well in the center of the garden and regarded them all with an appraising eye.

“Right, so, we are gathered here today because we forgot some friends in Haven.”

“Sera, we already had services for those lost at Haven, why did you drag us out for more?” Bull asked.

“I saw the names on the lists, we missed some.” she said indignantly. Autumn was horrified.

“No, really? How? We'll have to notify their families, make it up to them somehow...” she was wringing her hands in distress. She did not want to revisit thinking about all of the people she had failed to save.

“No, no not like that. Woof, you guys can be so uptight.” Sera waved at her dismissively.

“She does know people died, right? They didn't just all wander off for a nap or something.” Dorian grumbled.

“Look, everyone forgot about Scar and Whisper, and I didn't think it was right, seen as how everyone always talks about the day Quizzee brought in Whisper and the time she rode Scar.”

Autumn felt tears springing to her eyes. She brought her hand up to her throat as she tried to keep from breaking down in front of them all. Sera was right, she had forgotten all about the druffalo. She had dragged the poor things to Haven and it had only gotten them killed, and then she had the complete discourtesy to forget them in the rush to get to Skyhold.

She was surprised when she felt strong fingers twine with her own. She looked over and saw Cullen, a similarly guilty look on his face, nodding to her to show that he knew how she felt. The druffalo were particularly meaningful to the two of them, who had actually started their entire friendship around joking about them. Every time she had passed the stables and seen the two beasts she had gotten a big, goofy grin on her face when she remembered the look on Cullen's face when he saw her riding into Haven that day. They two of them owed more than a few smiles to the sweet animals.

“So, yeah. Everybody say something nice about them, because it sucks they died because of Coryphenus, and nobody deserves to be forgotten.”

“That was remarkably thoughtful of you, Sera. Thank you.” Vivienne gave the elf a gracious smile, stirred to the point of glassy eyes at the elf’s words. Nobody seemed to want to complain anymore, all of those gathered looking quite sheepish. Autumn, it seemed, was not the only one that had forgotten. She was also not the only one that cared, which touched her deeply.

“I'll start.” Leliana cleared her throat. “I didn't spend a lot of time with the two druffalo, but I still remember the day the Herald rode into Haven on Scar. The best part, in my opinion, was the cow lick Scar had given Varric. He had trouble getting his hair to sit right for days after that, and it made me laugh every time I saw it, so I will always be grateful to Scar for that.”

After that the entire group shared stories about the druffalo, everyone laughing as a new memory was revealed. It surprised Autumn just how many of them had personally interacted with the beasts. They had apparently become something of a mascot to the people while she was away on various missions, the troops even going so far as to believe that petting the druffalo before they left the village would ensure that they always returned home safe. Cullen held onto her hand discreetly through the whole ceremony, which was a great comfort to her because she was on the verge of losing her composure the entire time. It was silly, and stupid, and perhaps the last thing they should be worrying about right now...but something about realizing the two animals were gone really hit her hard.

Afterward most everyone filtered away to get back to whatever they were doing before Sera's intervention. Autumn strolled over to one of the benches and sat. She was happy when Cullen joined her.

“You alright?” he asked as he sat down, a small, sad smile playing across his lips.

“Yeah.” she didn't even sound convincing to herself.

“No lying.” he frowned.

She tried to give him a playful scowl, but she really only succeeded in making her lip quiver, which must have looked ridiculous, but he politely bit back the laugh that tried to escape him. “I feel bad that I forgot about them. I feel bad I brought them to Haven, and that I'm responsible for what happened to them. I know it's stupid. They were only druffalo but...”

“But they were _our_ druffalo.” he finished for her. “I know. I'll miss them too.”

She searched his face, but he didn't seem to be mocking her. “Thanks, Cullen. Glad to know I'm not the only one completely insane.”

He laughed and gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. “Let me know if you need to talk later, I'm afraid I have to get back to work for now, but I'll be around if you need me. Have a pleasant afternoon, Autumn.”

“You too.”

***

_V._

_I can be there within the week. We are getting a lot of strange reports...something weird is going on with the Wardens._

_I'm getting pretty worried. I don't have a lot of time, please send some warning out to the others._

_A. says stay away from Wardens. Warn them._

_-L._

***

“Hello, Solas.” he heard the familiar voice behind him, low and teasing, the dark tones of a cello playing a concerto. He turned, surprised, and sure enough she was there, standing before him in the same casual clothes she often wore around Skyhold, a simple pleated skirt that twirled just above her knees and plain ivory tunic. She looked for all the world as though she were actually standing in front of him.

“Greetings.” he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at her. He could tell by the light in her eyes that this was actually her, not some trick of the fade, not a spirit taking her form. It brought all sorts of questions to his mind, but he held his tongue. He may know where they were, but it was unlikely that she had ever experienced such. She was no mage, and it should not be possible for her to be here of her own accord. He searched the far reaches of the area, trying to detect any tampering or foul play, any spells or potions that could have brought her here. The only thing he found was her scent, spiced like tea with honey, rich like the fires of fall.

“I thought we might spend some time together. It's been awhile since we could just sit and talk.” she smiled warmly at him.

“Certainly. Perhaps we might consider a more interesting setting?” he suggested. She nodded, and they walked towards the door that led out of his solar.

When he opened it he was interested to note that they stepped out into Haven, the town very much intact. The sun was bright and shining down on the quaint little houses. There were no people on the grounds, of course, but it looked merely empty, not destroyed.

“Why here?” she asked, looking confused.

He was not sure if he should explain to her that she was the one that had taken them here. He didn't want to scare her away. “Haven will always be important to you.” he told her, feeling it vague enough to keep her from discerning exactly what was going on. She might startle awake and spoil the whole thing, and he was keen to see how this would play out. This felt familiar, this felt comfortable to him, though he couldn’t recall having traveled the fade with a friend before. Still, as they walked down the road to the town, he was more at ease than he should have been.

She seemed to accept the explanation, because she nodded, a very serious expression on her delicate face. “Was it important to you?”

He thought for a moment. “I first came to Haven after the conclave exploded. The breach was an obvious threat to us all. I felt driven to assist in its closure in whatever way I was able.” He gave her a sideways glance. “Imagine my surprise to find someone had survived the destruction.”

She smiled at him. “I'm always full of surprises.”

He chuckled. “You do not know how true that is.” they strolled forward at a leisurely pace, winding through the quiet snowy pathways of the village. “I watched over you, as you slept. Studying the anchor.”

She looked down at the mark on her hand. “I'm glad someone was there to watch over me.”

The sad smile across her lips sent a small stab of pain through his heart. He did his best to ignore it. “I studied you. You were a mystery to me. I had tried everything to seal the rifts, but nothing I did could affect them. Nothing I did to study the mark provided any kind of useful information. It seemed as though I would be powerless to help, and the breach would swallow us all. Then you woke up.” her green eyes were regarding him with wonder. “All of the time I spent, all the energy I expended, and suddenly you were there. I could not believe you were actually standing before me.”

“Was it that impressive to see me awake? I should take naps more often.”

He laughed softly. “You had walked through the fade. The last mortals that tried that awoke something that was best left slumbering. There was no reason that you should still live, much less wake and walk as though nothing had happened.”

“I told you, full of surprises.” she giggled. They paused their walk atop a hill that overlooked most of the town. It was wonderfully quiet, the air filled with the scent of burning fires and crisp wind off the mountaintops. The sun was just starting to set, casting orange and lavender hues across the snow, giving it the impression of being drenched in color. She had certainly led them to a beautiful spot.

“I remember seeing you coming over the ridge. I do not think I will ever forget that moment, when I first saw you coming to our aid. And then, after all my trials, all my efforts...you sealed the rift. With a mere gesture you had done what I was not able to do with all my power. I felt the whole world shift.”

“The whole world?” her eyes were questioning, green pools of curiosity. He wondered if she knew how those evergreen eyes affected him.

“You change everything, lethallan.” his voice was soft, and he became acutely aware of their proximity. They were standing facing each other, mere inches separating them. The chill breeze brushed through her curls, sending them swaying gently around her face. He reached up and traced a finger over her cheekbone, unable to resist the overwhelming pull of being near her. For a moment they stayed like that, one moment that felt like it stretched to encompass all of time, swallowing everything else until it was just them, just that small touch that sent echoes of longing through his soul.

He remembered himself. He dropped his hand and took a step back, turning away from her so that she did not see the pain he could not hide. It was not right, not acceptable for him to have these feelings, not even here.

“I think perhaps it might be time for you to wake up.” he told her, and then Haven dissolved around them and she was gone.

***

Autumn bolted upright in her bed. She could still feel his touch against her cheek, could still smell the snow on the ground. She blinked, clearing her vision in the darkness of the room, the sun still well away from rising.

She leaped out of bed, throwing on her clothing and bounding downstairs barefoot, taking the steps two at a time. She raced across the great hall and all but burst through the door to Solas' solar. He was awake, sitting at his desk with a book in his hand, and he smiled at her entrance as though he had been expecting it all along.

“That was incredible!” she cried. He looked startled at her vehemence, but it was quickly replaced with another calm, warm smile. “I've never done anything like that before. It was...does that sort of thing happen to you often? Meeting people in dreams?”

“Not at all. Consider it another rule you have effortlessly broken in your rise to power.” he laughed softly.

“Could we try it again? I mean, if you don't mind.” she had so many questions, so many possibilities running through her mind. “Would I be able to walk the fade with you? To see the places you journey to?”

He laughed again. “So eager, my friend. You were the one who came to me. If you would like, you are welcome to come find me again. Your company would never be unwelcome.”

“I don't know how I did it, though...” she frowned. “Do you think it was because of the mark?”

“Possibly.” he stated simply. He had an expression on his face that she couldn't read, something hovering on the edge of confusion and consternation. Perhaps he had as many questions as she did. Then again, Solas often seemed to be unreadable to her, and he was a quiet mystery most of the time.

“I will have to try it again sometime. This is all so fascinating!” the prospect of being able to visit fantastic places like those that Solas had told her about in his stories thrilled her. She had always wondered what it was like for mages to pass through the fade. To actually get a chance to do it was somewhat of a dream come true, or at the very least a means to satisfy her curiosity.

“For now, perhaps you should try to get some more rest. It is early yet, and I am sure your day has plenty of tasks to attend to.” his eyes twinkled with good humor.

She sighed. “You're right, as always. Thank you for the...the dream? The talk? Whatever it was, thank you.” she gave him a brief hug before she padded back up to bed, wishing there were a better way to express her gratitude for the experience. She would certainly have to try that again sometime.

***

_Iz,_

_Something happened. L. Says it isn’t safe anymore, time to enact plan hide in a fucking boat._

_I will update when possible._

_Please, stay safe,_

_V._

 


	24. I'll Behave. I Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cole tries again and Autumn meets Lilly.

_V,_

_Got your letters. Picked up Daisy, her clan went into hiding, she is safe with us. B. has been parked in a safe harbor, she’s with friends. Aveline has Donnic on the lookout, she'll be safe._

_We'll stay offshore as much as we can until we get further word from you._

_Stay in one piece._

_Love,_

_Izzy_

_Fen_

_Merrill_

 

***

His bitterness was all encompassing. Morose was all that he was capable of anymore. It was who he was, and it was who he would always be, because what did it matter? Everyone that he loved would die, because he was cursed to destroy anything good he found in this world.

Faren hadn’t bothered to make any new friends since coming to Skyhold, nor did he try to reach out and find the people that he had worked with in Haven. He kept his head down and did his job, and then drank himself into oblivion at the end of the day.

The sun beat down on his throbbing head as he carried Leliana’s missive. The scouts in the Inquisition had been running around all day trying to prepare for their secret guests arrival, namely trying to rearrange everyone’s schedules so that those that shouldn’t know that Lilly Hawke was going to be in Skyhold wouldn’t know. There were a surprising number of both mages and soldiers that were on the list of those they were hiding it from. That was to be expected, though, considering her lover hand blown up a chantry and incited the beginnings of the mage rebellion. As it turned out, that kind of thing pissed off a lot of people in a lot of different ways.

There were precious few even among the scouts that knew of her impending arrival. Faren, Charter, and a new scout named Bryce chief among them. The other two were holed up in the rookery with the spymaster, coming up with reasons to change Cullen’s schedule so that he would not run into the Champion. From what Faren could understand, they had a history that hadn’t ended pleasantly.

Faren turned the corner, swinging around the back of the tavern on his way to the mage tower where the recipient of the message he carried, Madame de Fer, was being distracted with various chores that Leliana kept insisting only the court enchanter could handle. It would keep her occupied all through Hawke’s visit, or at least until the Inquisitor informed her in a more controllable environment, so that she didn’t try to murder their guest as soon as she set foot in the building. He was halfway up the steps to the top of the battlements when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, a cloud of dark smoke swirling around a thin figure a few steps above him.

He looked, and a lanky, pale boy stood looking back at him, his eyes a vivid blue. Faren furrowed his brows, feeling as though he knew the boy from somewhere.

“You forgot again. That’s okay. I’m Cole, I’m here to help.”

Faren remembered the other scouts talking about the strange lad the Inquisitor had recruited, the one that appeared out of nowhere and no one could ever quite recall what he looked like. Faren sighed, lacking the patience to deal with this sort of distraction. “It would be very helpful if you moved out of the way and found someone else to bother.”

Cole tilted his head to the side. “No, not with the letter. I came to help with the dark things. Splintered, splattered, spilled upon the ground, there they go, away again to leave me alone.”

Faren didn’t understand what he was talking about, but the words echoed back at him with a familiarity that unsettled him. It was like the boy was reading back his thoughts to him, reciting them from the pages of a book that only he could see.

“Go away.” He shoved Cole aside and continued his ascent, only to have him follow by walking along the handrail, his feet balanced perfectly on the thin, slanted stone.

“You didn’t forget, but you want to. It still wasn’t your fault, but it doesn’t help to know.” He produced a book, holding it in front of Faren so that he had to stop or else run into it. It was a small tome, with pale green binding that was frayed at the edges. Gold lettering on the side announced it to be _101 of the Best Jokes in Thedas._ In spite of himself and his irritation, he couldn’t suppress his curiosity, and he took the proffered book, propping it open with one hand and flipping to a page at random.

_What do you call a templar leader after dark? A Night Captain._

Faren snorted, a smile cracking slowly across his face and stretching at the edges of his beard. It was stupid. Very, very stupid. Something about that stupidity was charming, though. Something about a joke that had all the cleverness of of a funny shaped rock was amusing to him, and his chest started shaking as he tried to suppress a laugh. He failed, and the mirth worked its way up and out of him, bursting into the air like a startled flock of birds. He doubled over, closing the book so he could slap his knee, tears rolling down his cheeks as he tried to breath around his giddy giggles.

When he regained his composure and his sanity he stood back up, swiping away the remnants of his tears with the back of his hand. He hadn’t laughed like that since Haven had fell, hadn’t laughed at _all,_ and he had needed it more than he knew. He hadn’t even been sure he was still capable of laughing after the loss of his friends, yet here he was snickering on a stairwell like a child. Perhaps the world wasn’t devoid of hope, after all.

He looked for Cole, to thank him for the gift, but the boy was gone, disappearing as silently as he had left. Faren determined that he would try to remember him, so that he could thank him next time they met.

***

“Inquisitor, allow me to introduce my friend Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall.” Varric bowed with a flourish while the rogue behind him strode down the steps towards her. Autumn felt a little giddy at meeting the woman who was infamous throughout all the Free Marches, her exploits both reviled and revered.

Hawke had an air of supreme confidence about her, a swagger to her step and a light in her eyes that made Autumn feel like she should step down as Inquisitor immediately and defer the position over to her. She wore a formidable set of black and red armor, with knee high boots that had mile long heels, and just the hilts of the blades attached to her back made Autumn green with envy. Her face was kind, round and dotted with freckles, her cheeks rising up as her small lips parted in a grin. Her eyes were a bright, vivid green, like the color of leaves kissed by the summer sun. She had sapphire blue makeup on her lids and dark navy eyeliner, making the green pop even more. Her lips were painted in a coral red, her hair a bright auburn shining in the sun. She was pale, short, and perfectly fit, a lithe body that was obviously well honed by combat.

“I don't much use that title anymore, Varric.” she said, her voice a bright and clear soprano.

Varric chuckled. “I say keep it. Just because your banned from ever going there doesn’t mean you don’t still basically own the place.” He cleared his throat. “In any case, I thought you might have some insight to share about Corypheus with our leader, her Inquisitorialness. We did fight him, after all.”

“You've already dropped half a mountain on the bastard, I'm not sure I have any ideas more creative than that.” Hawke stuck out her hand and Autumn took it, a firm handshake passing between them. “Lilly Hawke, at your service, for whatever that’s worth.”

“Autumn Trevelyan. It's a pleasure to meet you.” Autumn grinned from ear to ear. She was surprised that Lilly was not much older than she was, maybe even the same age. It was odd to think she had gone through so much in her life already and had so much attributed to her name. “Although I'm sure you have some ideas left in there. I heard you took on a horde of Qunari single handed.”

Lilly shot a nasty look at Varric. “Will you ever stop telling people lies about that fight?” she sighed with exasperation “Well, I did fight the Arishok If you have a horde of Qunari lying around I might be able to do something about it.”

“We have a Qunari...he's basically a horde all by himself, but luckily he's on our side.” Autumn smirked, knowing that Bull would appreciate the description immensely were he there to have heard it.

“Oh, I have to fight _him_. I promise I won't hurt him...much.” her eyes danced dangerously, and Autumn couldn't help but laugh.

“He might be done fighting rogues, he’s refused to spar with me since our first match. Though maybe if you bat your eyes he’ll give in, he has a thing for redheads.”

Lilly clapped her hands together, rubbing her palms in anticipation. “This will be _excellent.”_

Varric snorted and shook his head. “Calm down, killer. So where'd you send Blondie, anyways? I’m a little worried he might drown in his own tears in your absence.” Lilly stiffened and gave him a look of sheer terror. “Oh relax, Autumn's not going to bring down the wrath of the chantry on him. You're talking to the woman who offered the mages freedom and safety, after all...despite the fact that they had just tried to kill her.” He rolled his eyes expressively.

“Now, now Varric. Only some of them tried to kill me.” Autumn said, smiling at him affectionately. Lilly relaxed, but only slightly.

“Right, I forgot you would probably ask about him. He's....around…” she said evasively, not meeting Varric’s eyes.

He gave her a look of trepidation. “Please tell me you didn't actually bring him here?” Lilly didn't respond, but she looked away pointedly towards the tower door behind them, and Varric’s eyes bulged. “You have to be kidding me. Hawke, Autumn might be fine with him, but Curly is here too. What were you thinking?” He got up and strode towards the door, barely hanging on its hinges. Autumn glanced at Lilly, and the woman just shrugged and grinned before they both trailed after him.

Varric opened the door and they filed into the tower, the sunlight dimmed and filtered through the broken roof above their heads. Autumn made sure to close and latch the door behind her, knowing that this was not a meeting meant for others to walk in on.

There was a man standing in the room wearing dark green mage robes that looked well worn from travel. He was tall, about as tall as Cullen, with fine blonde hair that looked about shoulder length, pulled back away from his face in a tie. There was a layer of stubble across his jawline and dark spots beneath his eyes. He looked unfathomably tired, as though he had been awake for days on end, but his eyes still lit up when Lilly walked into the room. They were a warm chocolate brown color, and Autumn almost sighed when she saw the affection he had in them for the Champion. Lilly walked over to him and took his hand, almost defensively, watching Autumn with unease.

“Blondie how did you let her talk you into coming here? You should know better!” Varric’s voice was reproachful, but he walked up and shook the man's hand with a giant grin on his face.

The man snorted in turn. “When was the last time anyone could talk Lilly out of anything?” his voice was a soft, rich sound, carrying easily throughout the room. He smiled at Varric, a smile one could only have for a very old friend, a smile that spoke of old stories and memories that were countless and timeless.

“That's a fair point.” Varric sighed. “Well, you're here now. Allow me to introduce the Inquisitor, our lady of perpetual weird shit, Autumn Trevelyan.” Varric gestured towards her, and she did a little bow for him. “Hummingbird, this is Anders.”

“Pleased to meet you, Anders.” Autumn shook his hand firmly as he watched her with curiosity. He noticed the daggers she had strapped to her own back and let out a small groan. She cocked her head to the side, wondering what in the world that reaction was for.

“Sweet Maker, another red-headed rogue?” he looked at Varric, who laughed and slapped his knee.

“I know, right?” the dwarf said.

Autumn looked to Lilly, who shook her head and shrugged indicating she didn't know what they were talking about either.

“So, I suppose you want to know what we know about Corypheus.” Anders asked her, moving the conversation forward once again without addressing their strange outburst.

“Any information you have would be helpful.” she nodded politely at him, but grinned widely a moment later. “But I think first, some food and drink. I haven't had a damn thing all day.”

“They can't just parade around Skyhold, Hummingbird.” Varric warned, his posture weary. “We don't need Curly and the Seeker tearing our heads off and mounting them on pikes.”

“They won't. Take them across the battlements to my quarters, I’ll meet you guys there and we can eat and talk about ancient evil that apparently just doesn't have the manners to die when they're killed.” Autumn wanted the pair to feel more at ease than they were in this dusty room, and she wanted to give Anders a chance to relax. The man looked like he was perpetually on the verge of collapsing.

Lilly gave her a winning smile. “I think I like you.” she said as Autumn started walking away.

She opened the door and headed across the battlements in the opposite direction of the way she had sent their secret guests, and she waited the span of a heartbeat before she started sprinting, darting around a startled soldier as she made her way to the Commander’s office.

“Fuck fuck fuck...” she chanted under her breath as she raced across the stone. She wanted to go talk to him before he found out who was here, before he found out from someone else. She knew she wouldn't be able to keep it a secret from him if she ran into him on accident, she was a terrible liar when it came to the people she cared about. Not to mention that they had both sworn there would be no more secrets, and if push came to shove she would rather risk Anders life than her friendship with Cullen, although she doubted the situation would grow so dire. She _hoped_. Crossing her fingers, she sent a fervent prayer to the Maker that he would trust her enough for this, and that whatever had transpired between him and Anders was not bad enough to send him into a murderous rage.

***

Cullen was pouring over one of the many reports that littered his desk when he heard the door open. He glanced up, expecting to see another soldier bringing yet another piece of paper that would need his attention, since there seemed to be a never ending supply. He was surprised when a familiar head of curly red hair peeked its way around the door. Autumn's evergreen eyes met his across the room, and he felt his features melt into a smile. After Haven, he would ever get tired of seeing the light in her eyes.

“Please, come in.” he gestured for her to enter instead of hiding behind the door. She hesitated for a moment, a flicker of doubt passing across her face, but then entered and crossed the room to stand next to him. “Is there something I can do for you, Inquisitor?”

She grimaced. “Would it be too much to ask to never call me Inquisitor again?” He chuckled at her, knowing she hated the title almost as much as she had hated Herald of Andraste.

“And risk the troops thinking I don't respect you? Never.” he was teasing her, and she knew it. She scowled at him. “How about a compromise?” Her eyebrows shot up at him, but she said nothing, waiting for him to elaborate. “I'll stop calling you Inquisitor if you stop calling me Commander. As long as we're alone.” he smiled at her and hoped fervently the slight flush that he felt was not visible.

Her lips tipped upward, and her smile was dazzling to him. “Done. We'll just make it another rule.”

For a moment neither of them said anything, they just looked at each other smiling. Cullen started to feel a little uncomfortable under the intensity of her gaze, and felt himself start to fidget. He brought his hand up to massage the back of his neck nervously, trying to keep himself from shuffling his feet. “Er, was there something you needed?”

“Oh!” her eyes grew wide before she started to fidget herself. “I just...er, you're not going to like it.” she said, avoiding his gaze. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, tension building between his shoulders. This did not bode well.

“If it's about Hawke, I already know she's here. Varric told me a little while before he told you.” Cullen scowled, thinking of how exasperating the woman had been in the years he'd known her in Kirkwall. They were friends, had been for some time, but that didn't mean she didn't bring trouble wherever she went, and he had very much had his fill of trouble as of late. He really didn't want to think about the combined disasters that were possible while having Autumn and Hawke in the same place.

“Oh, well good, yes, it's about Hawke, but...” she picked at a nail on her hand, staring down rather than meeting his eyes.

“Well, out with it then. No secrets.” he said, tired of waiting, knowing that if he had to watch her stand there and blush any longer he was going to kiss her until neither of them could remember what they were talking about. Maker help him, did everything she do have to be so cursedly adorable?

“Don't be mad, and don't freak out, but she didn't come alone and I-”

Cullen didn't let her finish, was already grabbing his sword and getting ready to march out the door. If Hawke hadn’t come alone then there was only one person that she could have brought, and he was not about to let that monster loose in Skyhold.

“Cullen, I said don't freak out!” Autumn jumped in front of him, placing her hands firmly on his breastplate. He scowled at her.

“We can't let him be here, he puts every one of us in danger.” he snapped at her. She withered under his anger, and he felt marginally bad about it, but he could already feel her argument coming and knew he would have to yell at her further to make her see reason.

“I have already assessed the threat, and I don't think he is a danger right now.” she sniffed, her gaze daring him to argue. Oh, and he was _definitely_ going to argue.

“Are you insane? Do you know what he is capable of? You know what he did, you know what he is, you know -”

“Yes, Cullen, I know a great many things about him. I also know that he’s here to help, and that Lilly trusts him.” Great, she was calling Hawke by her first name. This boded so well for the future, he thought bitterly. He opened his mouth to argue further, but she held up her hand, forestalling anything he had to say. “I also know that he could be a danger, which is exactly why I wanted you to know what was going on so that we could be prepared should anything happen.”

He felt a rush of pride that she was trusting him to keep her safe, and did his best to clamp down on it. He knew very well that she was appealing to his ego, trying to get him to acquiesce to her by making him feel like her protector and confidante. “Don't coddle me. None of that makes this worth the risk. He is an abomination, Autumn, a possessed mage in the most literal sense. He cannot be trusted.” He sighed, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You haven't seen the demon in him, seen what he did. You couldn't possibly understand...” Cullen was begging her now, pleading with her to relent. Her face softened, and she grabbed his hand, gripping his fingers lightly. Maker help him, he was not going to be able to talk her out of this.

“I'm not asking him to join the Inquisition. They’re just here to talk about Corypheus, and then they'll leave.”

“I don't want...” he hesitated, wishing he could find another way to phrase what he was about to say, but the desire was not strong enough to keep him from saying it, and there really was no better way to put it. “I don't want you alone with them. You need to be protected.”

Why in the world did that make her blush? Her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink, and her gaze dropped from his. He sighed heavily, wishing he could take it back. He had probably offended her by implying she was not capable of protecting herself, which he knew she very much was. “At least let me join you. It's not as though I wouldn't welcome the information myself, anyhow.”

“You won't try to kill him?” she asked dubiously, a skeptical look on her face as she met his eyes again.

“No, I'll behave. I promise.” his shoulders sagged. How was it he never seemed to win when it came to her? She could talk him into anything.

A strangled sound of surprise escaped his throat when she threw her arms around him and gave him a fervent hug. “Thank you Cullen!” She let him go, and he felt like his world was spinning. Unsure of what to say, he rubbed the back of his neck, knowing his blush was no longer invisible and being helpless to stop it. He would think after the night in the library such a simple gesture wouldn't have such a strong effect on him, but apparently he'd be wrong. She walked towards the door, smiling back at him over her shoulder. “We are having dinner upstairs in my quarters. I'll have them send something up for you as well. Meet us there as soon as you're ready.” then she skipped out of the room before he could respond.

She would be the death of him. He had survived Kinloch hold, the blight, Kirkwall, and Haven, only to be left utterly defenseless at the hands of a slip of a woman named who just so happened to be another redheaded rogue sent to plague his existence.

 


	25. The Noodlehead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which old friends are reunited.

Autumn ducked into the room and closed the door behind her. The others were already there and turned to her after she raced to the top of the stairway, looking at her flushed face with alarm.

“Uh...so maybe I did a thing, and maybe this is a bad idea but uh....” Autumn's eyes darted around the room. She was trying to find a way to break this to them without everyone immediately starting to scream at her, as though she might find aid amongst the pillows and lavish furnishings that Josephine kept inserting into her room. She licked her lips.

“What did you do, Hummingbird?” Varric’s tone was filled with a complicated concoction of anxiety and amusement.

“Um, maybe I accidentally…invited Cullen?” she winced as she said it, waiting for the yelling to start.

Anders shot to his feet in alarm. “I have to go!” he looked ready to leap off the balcony to escape.

“No, you don't have to go!” she said, holding her hands out, ready to physically stop him if necessary.

“If Cullen knows I'm here he _will_ kill me!” Anders stared around the room with wild eyes, and he shook out his hands nervously, his breath quickening.

“He already knows you're here, though!” Autumn blurted. Three pairs of eyes looked at her in abject horror. “I...okay, maybe I should start over.”

“I think that might be a good idea.” Varric's voice was entertained rather than angry, which helped her to relax a little.

“I knew I wouldn't be able to hide the fact that Anders was here from him so I thought I would just tell him and that would make him feel better but then he was pretty angry and I had to talk him out of being angry and then he didn't want me to come and then he was saying things and he wanted to come with me to meet with you and I said yes and told him to meet us up here for dinner and then I remembered you might not like that and I just I'm so sorry please don't beat him up.” she said all of that in a breathless rush, trying to get all the words out before anybody interrupted her. She would really have to get over this habit of rambling when nervous if she was ever going to be an effective Inquisitor. If Josephine were present she would have cracked her over the back of her head with her clipboard by now for lack of courteous punctuation.

“You talked Cullen…into having dinner...with Anders.” Lilly formed the question slowly, her mouth hanging open. “Cullen _Rutherford_? Is there another Cullen here? Have I fallen into another dimension?”

Autumn shuffled her feet. “Um...yes. He promised to behave.”

The three other people in the room looked at each other meaningfully before they all burst out laughing. Autumn was taken aback by their response. She had expected more anger, not hysterical fits of giggles. She waited patiently for the three to calm down, wiping tears from their eyes.

“I would have paid all the money in my estate to see that argument.” Lilly held the sides of her ribs like she thought they might burst. “You must really have him on a short leash.”

“I don't, I mean...” Autumn stuttered while Varric elbowed Lilly in the ribs, causing her to make an airy sound as the air was startled from her chest.

“She means we can see why you're the Inquisitor.” he said, giving Lilly a glare that Autumn couldn’t understand. Anders simply grinned like the cat that ate the canary.

“I’m missing something here...” Autumn was wary now of this evening. It occurred to her that being stuck in a room with part of the group infamous for getting into trouble may not have been one of her brighter ideas, and now she had somehow dragged Cullen into it.

As if the train of thoughts in her head had summoned him, there was a knock on the door to her chambers. She turned around and walked down the small flight of steps to answer it, not at all surprised to see Cullen standing there with an angry blush across his cheeks and a scowl across his brow. What _did_ surprise her was that he was holding a bottle of wine.

“You brought wine?” she blurted out, wishing she could clamp her hand over her mouth for the rest of the night before she made any more of an ass of herself.

“Well, if I am doing this I might as well do it properly.” His scowl deepened to new and exciting levels of displeasure, his voice strained. She wanted to do something to set him at ease, to make him feel better. She didn’t know the whole story, but after their talk she knew that this must be hard for him, and she was guilty for her part in orchestrating it. Standing up on her tip toes she planted a quick, light kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you.” she said. She appreciated the fact that he was trying to be friendly, and wasn’t planning on being antagonistic the entire evening. He blushed and stared down at the floor, avoiding her eyes.

“I would say it's no problem, but you would know the lie of it. Are they here?” his eyes shot up towards the top of the steps.

“Is that Knight-Commander Noodlehead?!” Lilly's voice drifted down from above, and Autumn saw Cullen roll his eyes as a groan erupted from his throat.

“If I have a stroke tonight, it's your fault.” He told her as he started to walk up the stairs, but he gave her a sweet smile, taking the sting out of his words. Autumn giggled, wiping her sweat dampened palms off on the sides of her hips. Maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad, after all.

***

Lilly almost felt like she could imagine herself back in Kirkwall when the familiar face reached the top of the stairs, giving them all a sheepish smile. His hair was different, she noted. It was no longer the mess of short, untamed curls that it used to be. He had it combed back, kept straighter atop his head. He also didn't keep the same beard he used to have, but kept his face clean shaven, although there was stubble everywhere. The wound he got defending Anders had healed into an impossibly handsome scar, one that probably only made that smirk of his more deadly. He looked exhausted, even more exhausted than he used to in Kirkwall, but somehow happier as well.

As soon as he reached the top Lilly raced over to him and jumped into his arms, a giant hug for her old friend. “Noodlehead, it's fantastic to see you.” she let go of him abruptly, and he stumbled trying to regain his balance as she returned to Anders' side, hovering protectively. He didn't seem to be antagonistic towards them, but she didn't want to risk it anyways. Cullen shook his head at her.

“Hawke.” he said by way of greeting, nodding. He glared at Anders for a moment, looked back at Autumn coming up the stairs, then let out a sigh. “Anders.” he nodded to the mage as well. Lilly just about choked on the air in her lungs. Cullen had changed, apparently. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say someone had changed him, she thought to herself. This Inquisitor must be an interesting woman.

Anders nodded awkwardly at him, obviously unsure of what to say. For a moment they all stared at each other, tension building. None of them had ever really expected to be in the same room together again, and Lilly didn't think Cullen would ever bother trying to understand what had happened enough to forgive Anders. Yet here he was, not trying to kill them, despite what he had said the last time they had actually seen each other. Varric was watching the entire scene with wild eyes, looking from Anders to Cullen to Lilly then back around again in another circuit.

The were all jolted out of the moment by the sound of a cork being popped out of a wine bottle. Turning as one, they saw Autumn pouring glasses from the bottle Cullen had brought, grinning so wide her face was glowing. “This is actually my favorite wine, Cullen, however did you know?” she asked him, handing a freshly poured glass to Lilly as she did. Lilly took a sip and nearly spit it back out when she saw Cullen blush deeply.

“I uh, Dorian might have mentioned it at some point.” he rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit that Lilly hadn't seen in ages. She resisted the urge to tease him mercilessly. She would get the chance later, when Anders wasn't in the room, or she was certain Cullen wasn't going to try to kill either of them.

Wine was passed around and sipped as they all made themselves comfortable, or as comfortable as was possible. Varric sat in a chair, Lilly curled up in Anders arms on the floor, their backs against the bed, and Cullen and Autumn settled in next to each other on the couch. Cullen sat back, relaxing his posture as he drank the wine, putting one foot up on his knee and leaning his arm across the back of the couch. Autumn sat forward on the edge of the sofa, but if she leaned back she would be curled up in his arms. Lilly literally bit her tongue to keep the remarks about it to herself. Varric had made it clear when he rammed his spiky little elbow into her rib that the two of them were not to be teased.

Anders trailed his fingers lightly over her shoulder. She could sense his nerves fluttering through him, his heart pounding in his chest so hard that she could feel it against her back. She squeezed his hand in reassurance, trying to get him to relax. She could feel Justice there, skating near the surface, as well, ready to come out if he sensed any danger. They had long ago convinced Justice that Cullen was not a threat, not like the other Templars, but the spirit was not unaware of what had happened the last time they had seen each other.

“Well, at least the drinks are better than at The Hanged Man.” Varric said finally, enjoying his glass of wine.

“The Hanged Man?” Autumn asked him, sipping her drink demurely.

“The bar we all used to drink at, in Kirkwall.” Lilly told her. Autumn's eyes widened slightly.

“Cullen went to a bar?!” she laughed as she said it, giving the man a sly look. He scowled and blushed at the same time, looking younger by the minute.

“Used to meet us there every weekend. Isabela would rob him blind at cards, but he never seemed to learn his lesson.” Varric told her, his eyes alight with laughter.

“She only won because she cheated!” Cullen protested. “I was determined to catch her at it...one of these days I'll play her again and win.” he relaxed a bit at the memory, and Lilly laughed quietly. She felt Anders loosen considerably as well. It had been a long time since they had seen Cullen like this.

“Wait, wait, Isabela the pirate? You used to play cards with a pirate, in a bar?” Autumn seemed to be glaring at Cullen.

He shrugged and gave her a boyish grin. “I was not always the Commander of the Inquisition.”

“No fair, I missed all the fun.” she huffed.

“You should have been there the time Isabela talked him into betting a dance.” Anders said quietly. Lilly tensed for a moment, waiting to see how Cullen would react, but instead of getting angry he merely groaned, tilting his head back as he remembered.

“No, don't tell her that story. I finally go somewhere where people haven't heard of that disaster and you just have to bring it up.”

Anders laughed, for the first time since they had been within a hundred feet of Skyhold. She could feel the last of his nerves and tension melt away as he looked at their friend with a wicked grin.

“Oh, but now I have to hear the story.” Autumn patted Cullen's knee playfully while she looked at Anders, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Alright, so we were all playing cards, the entire group together for once. Most of us had already had the good sense to fold or bow out, but we were all watching the game continue, unable to resist seeing if Cullen would keep going or maybe, just maybe, he had learned his lesson.”

Lilly payed attention to the fact that Autumn had not taken her hand off of Cullen's knee. Cullen seemed not to have noticed, as he was too busy listening to Anders talk.

“I told you she cheated. I was so _sure_ I was going to catch her that time.”

“Well, there we were, everyone else out of the game. It was just Izzy and Cullen, staring each other down like they were in a life or death duel. Izzy raised the bet, and Cullen was completely out of money. So she offered him a deal.”

Varric chuckled darkly. “Never make a deal with a pirate.”

“She said if he had the guts to keep betting against her, she would let him bet a favor. If she won he would owe her one dance.” Anders voice lowered dramatically.

“I swore I thought it was over then and there, no way Curly would agree to dance...in public, no less!” Varric could barely contain his mirth.

“He’d clearly had far, far too much to drink.” Lilly quipped, tickled pink that Autumn was hanging on their every word. It wasn’t often they found such a rapt audience for their idiocy.

“In any case, surprising everyone there, Cullen took the bet. They laid down their cards...and of course Izzy had the perfect hand, nothing could have beaten it.”

“There was no way she had those cards before she made that bet. I knew she didn't have that good of a hand!” Cullen said. He was exasperated and embarrassed, but he also seemed to be having fun as well, enjoying Autumn's reaction to the story as much as the rest of them.

“So he gets up and holds out his hand to Izzy, looking mad as anything I'd ever seen but refusing to take back his word.” Anders was nearly giddy. It had been so long since she had heard him talk this way with others, it was like a breath of fresh air, a hint of the Anders that she loved coming through for others to see for once.She had missed him as desperately as she had missed the rest of their friends. “But Izzy just shakes her head at him. Cullen looks confused, already getting suspicious.”

Cullen sighed. “I knew the minute she shook her head that I had made a mistake...”

“She points over to Fenris, and says 'One dance, but not with me. I want you to dance with him.'” Anders laughed again. “Cullen pretty much made the same face he’s making now.”

Lilly and Autumn both looked at Cullen, who was blushing furiously.

“Izzy knew Fenris had a slight crush on Cullen, and she knew Cullen knew about it. She was going to make them dance together just because of that.” Lilly explained to Autumn. Autumn giggled, looking at Cullen adoringly.

“I was sure Broody was going to tell her to sod off, too.” Varric said. “Apparently Rivaini had put the idea in his head earlier though, so he stood up and bowed politely to Cullen, who I thought might actually die of embarrassment. Burst into flames right there in the bar.”

“He didn't though. He took Fenris' hand, as gentle as a maiden's, and swung him around. They swayed across the room like it was a grand ball, and at the end Cullen even dipped him.” Anders finished.

“You didn't?” Autumn asked him, leaning closer into him, her hand squeezing his knee. Cullen seemed to notice of her proximity for the first time, and Lilly watched him flush all the way to the tips of his ears. He looked down at her hand, bashfully blinking at her.

“It would have been ungentlemanly to refuse.” he said, clearing his throat.

“Maker forbid.” Autumn giggled again, rolling her eyes at him. She was regarding him with affection, however, and he seemed to know this. They looked into each others eyes for a moment, and Lilly remembered all of the times that very same thing had happened between her and Anders, back before they were on the run, when they had first started falling in love. She glanced back at her heart and saw that he had the same memories swimming in his eyes. He planted a soft kiss on her cheek, letting her know that he loved her without having to say it out loud. Her soul ached with how much she had missed laughter and love. With how much she needed it to temper all of the dour misery that she waded through every day. She owed the Inquisitor more for this than she would ever know.

Varric cleared his throat loudly then, causing both couples to snap their heads in his direction. “So, I do have one thing that Curly needs to hear about, now that he knows we all keep in contact.” Varric was practically bursting with the information.

“Wait, you still keep in contact with everyone? Truly? You have to spill, where are they? What are they doing?” Cullen looked positively thrilled at the prospect of discussing their old friends.

Varric laughed. “Of _course_ we keep in touch. How else did you think I found Hawke? I don’t keep her in my back pocket.” His grin spread wide and malicious across his cheeks. “And I’d be _happy_ to tell you what the other’s have been up to.”

Lilly gasped as she realized what Varric was hinting at. “Oh Andraste's ass, I totally forgot about that!”

“Why do I feel like I won't like this...?” Cullen looked very suspicious as he furrowed his brows at Varric.

“Now, you should know this was not our idea -” Varric began.

“Well, maybe it was a little Lilly's, she suggested the title.” Anders interjected.

“Sweet Maker, out with it before I expire from old age!” Cullen barked.

“Wait, no, I need to know everything. Start from the beginning.” Autumn begged.

“If the Inquisitor insists.” Varric beamed, raising his glass to her for a moment. “So, you know about Curly's apparently terminal gambling habit against Rivaini already, which is where this all starts. I guess at one point he had made a bet with Broody that if Curly could ever catch Rivaini in the act of cheating, Broody himself would personally pay back every bit of coin that Curly had lost.”

“He told you guys about that? Wow, I had very nearly forgotten.” Cullen let out a belly laugh.

“Oh wait, that's not even the good part.” Anders smirked.

“So, I guess after all this time Broody figures Curly is never gonna come back for another match. He takes what he had been saving just in case -”

“He actually had the money on hand?!” Cullen interrupted. “Do I even want to know how much it was?”

“Enough to buy a pirate ship.” Lilly practically crowed.

Cullen slapped his palm to his forehead. “A pirate ship? You’re joking. Please tell me you're joking...”

“Nope. Fen took all that money and bought Izzy a pirate ship. She gave him a fancy hat, and now they sail the seas as a married couple.”

“They got _married_?! _ISABELA_ got married?” Cullen looked floored.

“There wasn't a ceremony or anything. I think they just exchanged big hats and started calling each other husband and wife, but the result is still the same.” Varric was wheezing with laughter as he watched Cullen's reaction, barely able to get the words out.

“That's still not the best part.” Lilly trilled, her whole face tingling with anticipation. She knew without a doubt Cullen would make the best face when he found out.

“They named the ship The Noodlehead.” Anders said dramatically.

Cullen's face passed through several different degrees of emotions, from shock to annoyance and everything in between before he finally burst out laughing. The entire group joined in, and before long nobody in the room could breathe as they all laughed themselves hoarse.

***

The night had gone far, far better than Cullen had expected. Dinner had been delivered by the servants, and it had been incredibly good. Cullen hadn't realized how long it had been since he had eaten until the hearty meal was placed before him. Without the nagging worry that he should be working or doing something else he was able to stomach the plate of food much better, and his withdrawal symptoms were all but nonexistent as he basked in the glow of friends and a full gut. The wine had loosened things up, and more was brought up when they had finished the first bottle. They had discussed the unpleasant topic of Corypheus, gleaning the necessary information, but after that they had simply sat as friends, regaling Autumn with tales of their lives in Kirkwall.

Cullen was surprised to find that talking to Anders again was not as hard as he thought it would be. He had known that technically it had been Justice that had caused the destruction at Kirkwall, had even been told as much by Hawke. He had never really been able to separate the two individuals before, though. He never really saw Justice, and had only known Anders, so as far as he had been concerned that was who had been at fault. Seeing his old friend tonight, though, it was hard to keep blaming him for such a heinous crime. Anders was kind, funny, easy to get along with, and it was impossible to equate that with the man that had committed an act of terrorism. It was also just too hard to be here with the man and hold onto that kind of anger. Cullen had missed them, whether he wanted to admit it to himself or not. It was nice to sit together and let his anger go, at least for a little while.

Eventually they had gotten fairly deep into their cups. Varric had excused himself to bed sometime before that, but Hawke, Anders, and Autumn had wanted to remain and stay up talking. Hawke and Autumn had a lot in common, it seemed, from their sense of humor to their way of thinking. Hawke was more brash, more arrogant than Autumn. Autumn had a shy side, a self doubt that made her so much more soft spoken at times, but she still had the same biting wit as the Champion. Hawke seemed to approve of the Inquisitor a great deal, which made Cullen happy. Despite all their differences, he respected Hawke's opinion. She had been a lot of the reason that he had been able to get over his anger towards mages, to grow out of the blindly faithful templar soldier that he was and into a man who could see nuance in the world and accept that things were not always black and white.

Cullen caught Anders giving him a smug grin. He arched his eyebrow at the mage, wondering what the look was for. Anders nodded his head downward, and Cullen glanced down to realize that Autumn had fallen asleep with her head on his leg, her knees pulled up across the couch. He couldn't help the stupid, lovesick smile that spread across his face as he watched her sleeping peacefully, one hand curled under her chin the other resting against the couch. Her chest rose and fell with each soft breath, her curls falling across half of her face. He reached down and brushed them out of her eyes and let out a soft sigh. He wasn't even embarrassed about it. If anybody could see right through him and know immediately how he felt about the Inquisitor, it would be Hawke and Anders.

“Does she know?” Hawke asked him.

“No.”

“You should tell her.” Anders admonished.

Cullen rolled his eyes. “We are in the middle of a war, if you hadn't noticed.”

“It doesn't matter. Don't waste a single minute. If you know how you feel, tell her.” Anders voice was fierce, and Cullen looked up at him. He wasn't looking at Cullen, though. He was gazing into Hawke's eyes with such love and devotion that it hurt to see. Hawke's expression was warm and affectionate as she leaned back and let him kiss her, quickly but deeply. Cullen was completely envious, a feeling that gave him the distinct sensation of deja vu. He had never had that kind of connection with someone, and he realized that he would sacrifice anything to have Autumn turn to him with that look in her eyes. Was that selfish? Would he damn them all with his infatuation?

He looked back down at Autumn, still perfectly at peace. He traced his finger across her cheek, allowing himself to feel everything that he normally tried to push down and forget about. He could not have dreamed of a more perfect person to fall in love with. Even if she never reciprocated, he knew that he would love her until the day he died. His heart was hers forever, probably had been since the first time he had seen her walking across Haven leading that druffalo, maybe even before that when he had carried her out of the temple. He wondered if it was like this for other people, if Hawke and Anders had felt this indescribable connection when they had first met.

“When did you know?” He asked them, his voice soft as his eyes were still on her.

“Immediately.” Anders told him. Cullen glanced up at him and was surprised to see Hawke blushing. “From the second she walked into the Clinic, the world shifted.” Hawke didn't say anything, but he could guess that she felt the same.

Cullen sighed. Perhaps he should try to say something to her. He had hopes that she might share his feelings, and sometimes he was sure she was flirting with him. It was too great to imagine, too much to hope for, however. Despite all the evidence in his favor, he still doubted it, because she was amazing, and he was just...himself.

“Perhaps. If we defeat Corypheus.” he murmured.

Hawke and Anders stood up, clearly ready to call it a night.

“Don't make the same mistakes we did. Don't make her wait.” Hawke said to him before waving goodbye. The two strode down the stairs, and Cullen heard the door open and close again, leaving him alone in the room with Autumn. He sat there for a moment, enjoying the quiet, the peace of her head resting on his leg, of her closeness. It brought a sense of happiness to his heart that he didn't feel he could have earned.

Eventually he stood, lifting her up and tucking her into bed. The walk back to his own quarters seemed so much farther than it ever had before as he jogged down the steps and out onto the walkway to his lonely tower. With a last glance at the balcony to her room he took himself to bed, wondering if he would be as filled with regret tomorrow as he was in this moment.

 


	26. I Will Always be There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which dark words arrive on dark wings and Solas makes a promise he didn't mean to.

The crow that had delivered the letter was dead. It was dead when he found the thing on his desk, feathers akimbo, beak open in an eternal, soundless cry. The message it brought was short, but it sank a deep chill into the pit of Cullen's stomach. He had unrolled the paper, read it, and immediately stuck his head out of the door to his office, ordering the nearest soldier on patrol to send for Sister Leliana, and to tell her it was urgent.

_Cullen,_

_She's very pretty. The Herald._

_You're on the wrong side. You haven't seen this kind of power._

_-Samson_

 

When Leliana arrived, she immediately began examining the message for any kind of clues as to where it had come from. When she had finished looking at the note she began checking on the bird. She shook her head when neither avenue proved fruitful.

“The crow was not one of mine. It looks as though it was poisoned, probably so we couldn't try to trace it by sending it back.” she tilted her head, tapping a finger against her lips. “The note was obviously intended for you, and you alone. Do you know a Samson?”

Cullen shrugged. “The only one I can think of is the Samson I knew back in Kirkwall. We roomed together, once upon a time, but he was thrown out of the order before I really got to know him very well. Last I remember he was begging in the streets for money to buy lyrium.”

“Hmm. Interesting. I will have my people look into it. For now, I am going to post scouts around your quarters, just in case.”

He groaned. “Must I be babysat, Leliana?” He did not like the idea of her people watching him constantly.

“Cullen, we can hardly risk our Commander.” she got a wicked flash in her eyes. “If you were hurt and I could have prevented it Autumn would likely kill me.”

“I...well...” he was irritated that just the idea of her caring made him flustered. “Oh never mind. Take your intrigues and get out of my office, woman.” he threw his hands out to shoo her away. She laughed musically as she left.

He had trouble shaking the sense of dread that fell over him, and the words in the letter haunted the back of his head for the rest of the day..

*******

_Sister,_

_Crestwood is awful, everything is wet. Even the fucking fire here is wet. Seriously. We checked._

_Won't be able to see our friends for a bit, have an errand to run. Zombies complicate things something fierce._

_Did find a nice place for you and some friends to shack up, if you wanted. Look for my flag, we're moving in._

_Will write when we make contact later._

_-Hummingbird_

 

Autumn stared down the ladder into the dizzying darkness below. She could hear water dripping off the walls of the cave, splattering against the stone beneath them. It didn't seem to go down very far, but the gloom was all consuming, a veritable void staring back at her. Knowing that there were undead, demons, and likely a plethora of giant spiders down there waiting for them did not make her feel anymore excited to be there.

“Are we certain there isn't another way to close this rift?” Dorian glanced down with as much trepidation as Autumn felt.

“Not unless you want to swim out into the middle of that lake.” Bull said, his voice loud enough to send an echo bouncing off the walls, thunder rumbling through the night.

“I suggest we get down there and get this over with before that town gets anymore depressing.” Varric hefted Bianca onto his back in preparation for the descent.

Autumn looked at the group. Not one of them looked eager to get down there. She met Solas' eyes, and he gave her a small shrug. Nothing left but to do it, she thought.

“Endless dark, dripping, dank, things in the shadows, legs and arms grasping forward...the eyes in the dark see you but you don't see them.” Cole murmured, his eyes wide.

“I'm not actually sure who he's reading this time.” Varric said.

Dorian shuddered. “Probably a little of all of us.”

“Lets move. The longer we stay the more demons will be there when we find the damn thing.” She told them. Clasping the ladder, she held on and swung down, sliding to the floor with ease.It was satisfying to be able to skip the endless rungs, although she knew she would be cursing her old nemesis again when they had to climb their way back out.

It was pitch black below, a dark so severe that she couldn't even see her hand in front of her face. She could make out light filtering around the top of the ladder, but none of it seemed to penetrate the oppressive darkness below, which could have stretched out endlessly into the center of the world for all she could tell.

“Hey, someone send a mage down, I can't see anything!” she tried not to think about what could be hiding beyond her sight.

A figure landed softly at the bottom of the ladder, and a moment later a delicate blue flame flared to life, illuminating Solas and the cave around them. The walls were a smooth, grey stone, worn soft by the years underwater. Several rock formations jutted out from the ground and ceiling, and she could see various minerals glittering in the blue light. The color of the fire casting against them made it seem like it was a tunnel of stars, a passage carved straight through the night sky.

“Wow.” she whispered softly as Solas walked over to stand beside her. He smiled at her, his expression pleased as he watched her take in the sight. “It's beautiful.”

“It would almost be romantic, if I didn't know it was filled with undead.” Dorian said from behind them, dusting his hands off as he dismounted from the ladder.

She laughed, the sound echoing oddly in the cavern. “Good point. I don't think I'll make it a vacation spot anytime soon.”

“Nonsense, clear out the undead, bring in a nice blanket, you could have a veritable love cave in no time.” he gave her a cheeky grin.

“Perhaps a less haunted locale would be preferable.” Solas offered, his dark eyes glittering with the light of the dancing flame. She laughed again, this time almost enjoying the way her own mirth echoed back towards them.

“Perhaps.” was all she could think to say. He gave her a soft smile in response.

The others made their way down, and soon they were winding their way through the shimmering paths. The cavern was long and crooked, but thankfully didn't have many subsidiary tunnels, so they only had to follow the main vein, aiding their progress. The undead, however, were everywhere, which certainly dashed any hopes that they might have had of getting through quickly. There were so many of them down there that it was almost worse than working through the Fallow Mire, and that had been the site of a plague that had killed hundreds.

“Was this a burial ground or something?” Autumn asked, breathless as she took the head off a corpse shambling its way over to Dorian. She was starting to flag from exhaustion, her daggers feeling heavier by the minute.

“Not likely.” Varric answered as he took out the last corpse in the area with a well placed bolt. “A cave is not usually people's first choice for a final resting place.”

“Something is very wrong here. First the damn controls were repaired, and now this tunnel is filled with corpses. That mayor is up to something.” Bull grumbled.

“We should see to the rift before we concern ourselves with anything else.” Solas urged them forward with quiet pragmatism.

Eventually they came upon the part of the network where it opened up into a couple of larger chambers. She could feel the rift in one of them, surging energy making the hair on her skin stand on end. They ran into the room and were immediately beset by demons and undead.

There were so many that it was hard to stem the tide. Autumn couldn't help having flashbacks to the moment in the future Redcliffe, when the demon horde had been upon them, which made it hard for her to focus on the fight. She was grateful for the barriers that her mage friends were providing, because her panic, coupled with heightened levels of fatigue, was leading her to be reckless. More than once a corpse missed a killing blow by only the grace of the magic surrounding her.

In the midst of the fighting, most of the group got separated, and she found herself fighting alongside Solas alone as they worked their way towards the rift. The demons were defeated, and she could feel the energy from the tear weakened enough to try and close it. The others were still occupied with undead around the corner, and she knew they wouldn't see any relief until she sealed the glowing gash before her, but she couldn't help having a moment of hesitation as the green light of the fade danced across the room.

The rift was massive, probably as big as the original had been, in the temple. Autumn looked up at it, a surge of fear tightening in her chest. She remembered the pain of trying to close that rift. It was true that she no longer felt like her arm was being ripped in two every time she closed the ones littering Thedas, but none of them were quite so big. By the sheer number of demons they had just killed, she would also be willing to bet that this tear was particularly strong. Now she faced it down, exhausted from hours of battle, wondering if trying to close it would tear her apart.

“You are afraid.” Solas said next to her ear. It wasn't a question. She guessed that he knew exactly what she was feeling. He had been there in the temple, after all. He knew all too well the pain that she had put up with that day. She nodded weakly in assent. “I will be here, if you need me.” he placed a light, reassuring hand on her shoulder. She gave him the best grin that she could muster.

“Guess there's no way around it is there? Inquisitor to the rescue.” she tried to ignore the tremor in her voice. She stepped forward and held her hand out.

The pain was immediate and immense. It felt like the mark had been heated to an extraordinary temperature, scalding the skin around it. She screamed and fell to her knees, the agony a distraction from everything else. She was connected to the rift, like she always was, but she couldn't move her arm, couldn’t will herself to pull it closed as she normally would have. It felt like the energy was trying to drag her in, yank her back into the fade and swallow her forever. She felt her vision blurring, her mind whirring with the effort to stay awake She was slipping, slipping away, losing control of the magic surging through her...

Slender arms were encircling her, anchoring her back into this world. Solas wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her to her feet, and extended the other along her own, bringing his hand to rest on the back of hers, twining his fingers into the hand held to the rift. She felt him summon his magic and push it through her, drawing his will into the mark. The pain receded and she felt her head clear. With everything she had left, she pulled her arm back towards her body, drawing the energy of the fade with her. The rift snapped shut, the magic disconnected, and she was left shuddering and gasping as Solas held her upright.

“Are you alright?” he whispered in her ear. She shivered at the sound, a low bell rung in the night, muted somehow as though passing through a fog.

“I think so...” she couldn’t stop shaking, though she stood up and stepped out of his arms. A flicker of something she could not read passed over his face before he replaced it with his usual mask of serenity.

With the rift closed the undead all fell, freeing her other friends from the battle that they had been embroiled in. They came rushing into the room, sweat dripping on each face.

“Good timing, Hummingbird. I thought we were going to be joining the pile of corpses for a minute there.” Varric grinned at her. She smiled back at him, but even she could tell it was weak and felt wilted on her own face.

“Yeah...” she felt dizzy, wavering on her feet. She held a hand out to steady herself, which Dorian rushed forward to grasp.

“Lovely, are you alright? You don't look so hot.” he asked her.

“That rift was odd...I just need to rest, I think.” she felt like her breathing was erratic, like there was suddenly no rhythm to her heart. The vision of her friends swam before her for a moment, and then everything receded as she was swallowed into darkness.

***

Solas had assured them that she only needed rest. It had taken a certain degree of cajoling, but eventually they accepted his explanation of what had happened and agreed to remain in the chamber to give her a few hours of sleep. Her body had merely reacted to the flow of mana forced through it, a sensation relatively foreign to someone who wasn't born a mage. Bull had offered to take up watch, and the rest of them had settled in for what break they could take in the dark tunnel. Solas had promptly gone to sleep.

In the fade, he found himself standing on the shore of a small island, endless waves of water lapping against the sandy banks and spreading out in whatever direction he looked. She was there, sitting in the middle, knees drawn up against her chest as she gazed out at the infinite blue.

“I thought I might find you, if I slept.” he told her, sitting down next to her. She gave him a dazzling smile for a moment before sorrow passed over her, dragging her down into a deep melancholy. “What troubles you?”

“It hurt.” she said simply, shrugging.

“Does it often hurt to close the rifts?” the idea troubled him greatly. He felt guilty that he had not asked her this before. She had seemed fine after the initial painful venture, so he had never questioned it, never thought to check on her as he should have. He took for granted her vitality, assuming that it meant all was well within her heart. He, of all people, should understand that the outside was a poor indicator of what was beneath.

“A little. Not like the first ones, but I get cramps in the hand, and sometimes it feels like it's burning.” she shrugged again, trying to dismiss the information.

“I am so sorry, I never knew.”

“It's fine. Mostly it doesn't bother me. This one, though...I couldn't...if you hadn't been there...I don't think I could have done that on my own.” her eyes were starting to shine with unshed tears. She was afraid, he realized. Afraid of failure, afraid of the pain, afraid of the strange magic attached to her. She had never been forced to deal with channeling energy before, and suddenly this situation was thrust upon her, changing things whether she willed it or not. Through the pain, the confusion, the robbing of whatever future she had intended for herself, she was expected to step forward to save them all. He would have given up everything in that moment to take that fate from her.

He wrapped an arm around her, puling her into his side. She let her head fall against his shoulder. “I will always be there, lethallan.”

He said it without meaning to, and immediately he hated himself. He could make no such promise.In fact, he knew it for what it was, an outright lie, bold in the face of all that he worked towards. He knew better, and yet the words had come from him of their own volition. It didn't matter that they weren't true, he realized then. The reason they had tumbled out beyond all reason and knowledge was not because they were honest. It was because he wanted them to be true. He wanted to promise himself to her, to dedicate himself to her safety and protection. To believe that he could stand by her side and face the things to come, together.

“You're a very good friend, Solas.” she told him. The use of the word friend nearly made him wince. It was enough to remind him of himself. To remind him of what his place truly was.

As he sat there and held her loosely, gazing out at the endless sea, he only wished the truth didn't hurt so much.

 


	27. Longer Than I Should Admit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet Captain Sacrificial Mustache (Stroud), and it does not happen on the battlements.

_Sister,_

_Plugged a hole leaking corpses. Not the best way to have a vacation._

_More caves. Always caves, so many fucking caves._

_Ran into my old friend. Got a direction and a letter._

_I will smell like corpse for a week._

_-Hummingbird_

 

Autumn decided that if she never set foot in Crestwood again it would be too soon. The rain had finally stopped, which they had all thought would be an improvement until the humidity and heat made everything feel sticky. Walking around left them with the distinct feeling they were wading through the very air, thick with moisture and heavy in their lungs. She needed a bath, a glass of something very strong to drink, and perhaps a certain blonde Commander in the library with her. She would have to make sure to have another...date? Was that what that was? She wouldn't dwell on that now. Right now she needed to get to the meeting place Lilly had outlined, talk to her Warden contact, and get home as fast as possible. She would worry about defining things with Cullen after that.

When they finally reached the cave and Lilly was in their sights Autumn practically wept with relief. Her fellow rogue gave her a big grin in welcome.

“I see you've been enjoying Crestwood thoroughly.” Lilly said in greeting.

“Oh yes. I think I'm going to build a house here. Settle down. Maybe plant a garden.” Autumn puffed, wiping sweat off her brow with a grimace.

“Sounds lovely.” Lilly gave a small wave to the others in greeting. “So, my contact is in here. I would recommend just the two of us go in, since he can be a little jumpy.”

“Sounds fine. Can you guys handle guarding the cave?” she asked her team. Several tired nods was all she got in return. Her friends were as miserable as she was.

“So where's Anders?” Autumn asked Lilly quietly as they started forward.

“He and Stroud don't really get along very well. He's nearby, but safe and hidden.” she paused for a moment, turning back to Autumn. “I wanted to thank you, by the way. I have no idea how you got Curly to be so...himself, but it meant a lot to Anders. And myself.”

Autumn grasped the woman's shoulder. “No problem. Honestly I have no idea what I did either, other than run around making rash decisions, but if it works...” she shrugged helplessly.

Lilly laughed. “Take care of him, Autumn. He's a good man. Too good for this world by half.”

For a moment Autumn thought about protesting the implications of that statement, but in the end she decided it wouldn't be any use. Lilly seemed like the kind of person who could read people like an open book, and Autumn wasn't inclined to believe she was particularly good at hiding how she felt anyways.

“I'll do my damndest.” she told the other rogue as they started moving forward again.

She followed Lilly deeper into the cave, the heat inside twice as oppressive as it was outside due to the torches lining the walls at uneven intervals. The stone seemed to glisten in the light, as though the cave itself were sweating, an image made all the more plausible by the fact that the whole thing smelled like the inside of someone's boot.

Towards the back of the winding tunnel they came upon a wooden door erected haphazardly to board off the back chamber. Lilly reached out and used her knuckle to rap a series of complicated knocks against the wood. After a moment the door cracked open, a wary eye peeking out to observe the two women.

“Stroud, it's just me. Open up already.” Lilly told him. He opened the door up just wide enough to allow passage for their slight frames, and ushered the women in with an impatient wave of his hand.

Stroud was a broad man that looked like he was at least thirty percent mustache. It was the kind of mustache Autumn always found thoroughly amusing, the kind that would actually bristle when its wielder got upset, the kind that took untold amounts of effort to maintain. The type of men that had such illustrious facial hair were always so stodgy and easy to make fun of, as well, which gave Autumn no end of amusement. No teasing today, she reminded herself. She was on Inquisition business, after all. Josephine would never forgive her if she came back and announced they had to cross all mustachioed allies off of their list because she had made one too many jokes about styling wax and danger sensing whiskers.

“Hawke, good to see you again.” his fine black whiskers practically quivered as he spoke.

“Likewise. This is my new friend, Inquisitor Trevelyan.” Lilly gestured towards her.

“Autumn, please.” she told him as she gave him a firm handshake.

“A pleasure, Inquisitor.” he replied, and Autumn wanted to roll her eyes at his blatant disregard of her request he use her first name. They never listened, these mustache men, as if being informal might actually cause them to lose hair early.

“So, I hear you might have some insight on what exactly has been going on with the Grey Wardens.” Autumn crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, preferring to get straight to business so she could get out of there as quickly as possible. Stroud and his facial hair were lovely enough, she supposed, but home was calling to her. Fervently.

“I understand you know about the disappearances of the Orlesian wardens?” he began. She nodded, so he pressed on. “The wardens have all pulled back into our stronghold in the area, Adamant fortress. Warden Commander Clarel ordered everyone back shortly after...after all of us began hearing the calling.”

“Shit.” Lilly stood up straighter, her shoulders snapping with tension.

“The calling?” Autumn asked. She had never heard of such a thing, although judging by how secretive Blackwall was with all of his warden information she wasn’t surprised. It was apparently a very paranoid organization.

“It's like...a death call. Wardens all carry the taint in them, and eventually that gets to be too much for their body. When that happens they start hearing the call of the old gods, and they go off into the deep roads to die fighting darkspawn.” Lilly explained.

“Shit indeed. So right now every warden in Orlais things they're dying?”

“Yes. Clarel panicked, understandably, and called everyone back to plan what to do. Our fear was that all the wardens would die out, leaving the world defenseless against any future blights that might happen.” Stroud turned around, pulling some papers off of his desk. He handed them over to Lilly, who looked at them, nodded, and passed them to Autumn. “These detail some of my findings. She started working with a mage who shared with her a ritual of some kind, to grant some sort of power to the wardens. She seems to wish to take an army and go into the deep roads to wipe out the old gods herself.”

“Maker's breath, that's a stupid plan.” Autumn said. It was, too. There were thousands, hundreds of thousands, probably millions of darkspawn in the deep roads. It would take an army of equal magnitude to march down there and accomplish such a task, and there was no way the wardens of Orlais could constitute such a force, even if they were getting hopped up on some sort of magic.

“She's scared. We all are.” he replied stoutly. “In the papers I have detailed a spot in the Western Approach where the mage is supposed to be performing the ritual. I suggest we meet there at that time and see what's going on for ourselves.”

“Alright Stroud, you have yourself a date. I will send my people to scout out the area and meet you there as soon as possible.” Autumn said.

“I'll be there as well. I want to see what this man has planned for myself. If that's alright with you, of course.” Lilly was already heading out the door, ready to leave, most likely anxious to return to Anders’ side.

“Certainly, I could hardly turn down the assistance of the Champion, after all.”

As Autumn turned to leave, Stroud spoke. “One more thing, Inquisitor. I have a letter, for your spymaster, from an old friend of hers. Can I trust you will ensure this gets to her, and only her, with the utmost discretion?”

Autumn took the envelope from him. “Of course, you can count on me.” she gave him a grin before finally leaving the cave. She could not have been more elated to be heading home.

*******

_Leliana,_

_My, my you have been busy! Everywhere I go someone is talking about the Inquisition._

_I am passing this on via Stroud because I heard your Inquisitor was meeting with him, and I cannot trust sending a message any other way._

_I cannot say much, but there are some very...not good things going on lately. And not just the ones you know about._

_Please tell Alistair I am okay. I know he's probably worried._

_I would also appreciate it if you could do me the very large favor of having some trusted people watch over him. Wardens are not exactly safe at the moment._

_Stay safe._

_Love,_

_Melody_

 

_***_

_Inquisitor,_

_New title, I see. It's as though you're trying to confuse me on purpose. I should probably just stick with Autumn, but my advisor informs me that would be too informal for a woman of your status. Which I am telling you because I'm pretty sure you will find it as amusing as I do._

_Thank you for passing on the letter. I obviously can't say much of what I want to say here, but I'm hoping a very emphasized thanks will cover it. So THANKS._ (the word is written in all capital letters and underlined several times, with small hearts drawn around it)

_Let me know if Ferelden can do anything to assist the cause._

_I have a feeling we will be hearing more from each other in the future. Call it a hunch._

_Sincerely,_

_King Alistair Theirin_

 

*******

Cullen strode into his office and nearly had a heart attack when Autumn dropped down through the opening that led to his sleeping quarters, sliding on the ladder rails to land lightly on her feet.

“What in Andraste's name were you even doing up there? You just about killed me.” he clutched a hand over his chest, trying his best not to laugh at the mischievous smile that she had spread across her face.

“Cullen, a big strong man such as yourself could hardly be taken down by just a small scare.” she bat her eyelashes at him.

“Oh, that is the most deflection I have ever seen. Look at you, your very eyelashes are deflecting. It's sickening.” he grinned even as he spoke, unable to help it because she was already tilting her head back and laughing.

“Fine, fine. I was hiding out waiting for you to get back. Nobody goes up there, you know.”

“That's because it's where I sleep, woman. It's not your personal hiding spot.” he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.

“Psh, my castle, my rules.” she copied his pose, crossing her legs at the ankle. “Anyways, as fun as it sounds, I did not come here to argue about your bedroom with you.” she winked as the blush crept across his cheeks. “Do you have some time tonight? I know a certain library where the chairs are comfortable and the spiders don't talk much.”

“I think I can manage to slip away. Wait for me?” he asked her. He had a few reports that he had to look at, but it wouldn't take him long.

“Certainly, sirrah. Do you want to just meet me down there?”

“Yes, sounds fine. I'll just finish up here and be right down.”

She nodded and slipped out the door to head down to the library. Cullen walked over to his desk and attended to the tasks that he couldn't put off before he got ready to follow. He removed his armor before he went. Something about wearing it to a meeting where they were both trying to drop their guard seemed improper. Not to mention it was late, and the heavy thing was giving him a neck ache that was spreading straight through his head. He could use a few moments without the metal weighing him down. And if he wanted to remove it just in case a certain woman wanted to relieve his headache again in a similar fashion as last time, he could hardly be blamed, could he?

On his way down he took the time to grab a bottle of wine left over from dinner from one of the tables in the great hall and a couple of unused goblets. Never hurt to have a little liquid courage, as she had so eloquently put it last time.

“Curly, is that...is that a spring in your step I detect?” Varric asked him as he walked past, looking up from the pile of papers that he always had strewn about his little table.

Cullen just grinned at him. “If you have to ask, you'll never know.”

The dwarf shook his head. “Hopeless.”

“Goodnight Varric.”

“Night Curly.”

When Cullen finally managed to find his way down to the little library Autumn was curled up in one of the chairs, intently reading one of the dusty books off the shelves. She glanced up at his entrance.

“Have you looked at these yet? I have never even heard of 'Arctus Vellisus', but he apparently knew a great deal about high dragons. Mineave would have killed for this.” her eyes were alight with interest.

“You enjoy reading research?” he was surprised. Most people found such topics dry.

She waved dismissively. “I enjoy reading everything.”

“Good to know.” she looked up at him then in earnest, a charming smile gracing her lips.

She shut the book and placed it behind her on the desk while Cullen poured her a glass of wine. She took the proffered cup and curled back up in the chair, sipping it as she tucked her small feet underneath her. “So, who's turn is it?”

He chuckled. “Ladies first.” he nodded in her direction.

“Very well, sirrah. I shall take your courtesy. Tell me about Anders.”

He frowned. “What, no warm up questions?”

She pulled a book off the shelf next to her and lobbed it at him. “Deflection.” He dodged the projectile easily and laughed.

“Fine, you don't have to maim me with literature. Anders was an apostate mage who came to Kirkwall shortly after I did. He fell in with Hawke and her motley crew, and eventually I became friends with the lot of them. I never expected it to happen, him being an apostate and me being a Templar, but Hawke had a way of making people get along no matter what. We were very good friends, maybe even best friends, right up until I found out he was possessed by a demon and he blew up the chantry. After that...it got complicated.” he broke off for a moment, taking a sip of his wine to hide his grimace.

“Take your time, but no secrets.” she told him quietly while she waited for him to continue.

“After the chantry blew up things fell apart rapidly in the city. I wasn't there when he confessed, I was on the other side of the gallows, but Knight Commander Meredith was. She called for the right of annulment. Hawke disagreed, refused to execute Anders, and ran into the fight trying to protect the mages. I ran into them later as Meredith was trying to kill them all. I...couldn't bring myself to justify what Meredith wanted to do, nor could I quite bring myself to turn on my friends, even if I couldn't understand why they were standing with Anders. So we worked together to take down Meredith. After the fight I helped them escape the city, but I didn't part on good terms with Anders. I told him that if I ever saw him again I would kill him.”

“Oh.” she said, when she was sure he was finished. “That explains his panic when I said you were joining us that day.”

Cullen grimaced again. “Yes, well...I wanted to thank you for that.”

“For forcing you to sit with someone you hate?” her delicate eyebrow arched.

“No, for forcing me to remember that I didn't hate him. When everything happened, Hawke tried to explain things, she tried to tell me it was Justice – the demon – that committed those crimes, not Anders. That I shouldn't blame him...but I hadn't known Anders was sharing his body with a spirit before. She had known all along, and I hadn't had any time to process any of that. When you forced me in there and made me promise to behave, I had to face him again...and it reminded me of the good person he is. I think I was finally able to understand how Hawke could forgive him, how she could be sure Justice was responsible and not him. I'm not saying I completely forgive everything, but because of you I might someday be able to have my friend back.”

“I...I'm glad I could do something right, then.” she squirmed, adjusting and readjusting her feet beneath her, clearly uncomfortable with his gratitude. “Alright, your turn.”

“Tell me why you hated the Templars you knew.”

She let her head fall backwards against the chair, looking at the ceiling. “Aside from the fact that they generally treated people like they thought they were better than everyone else? There was a night, in a tavern. I was in there purely by accident, obviously something they didn't expect. In fact, I think had they or my brother known I was there the whole situation would have been avoided, because I think they kept their antics a secret from me to keep me from causing a fuss about it. But I was there when they all came in. There was this girl in the back corner. She wasn't bothering anybody. Was hardly making a sound. She was so little, looked like she hadn't eaten in days, maybe. The Templars came in and said she was an apostate, dragged her out of the bar while she cried and pleaded. Nobody did a fucking thing to stop it. It was hard to watch...it didn't take me long before I got up and followed them. I didn't know what I was going to do, I had never really bothered to stand up to my brother's friends before because Andrew was always the golden child and I would catch shit from my father. Anyways, I followed them and they were...” she closed her eyes, taking a long, deep breath. She held it for a moment, and Cullen started to worry that she was going to suffocate herself before she finally exhaled. “They were trying to rape her. So I killed the son of a bitch who already had his pants down, there was a scuffle, and when Andrew recognized me the rest of them ran.

For a minute Cullen let the silence hang. He kept his voice as soft as he could when he spoke. “What happened to the girl?”

She lifted her head and looked at him, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. “Thank you for calling her a girl and not an apostate.” she murmured. Then she shook her head, as if clearing it. “She had been hit by a smite from at least two of the Templars, she was near out of her mind with terror, with the pain of having her magic ripped from her. She killed herself while I tried to help her, grabbed my dagger and slit her own throat. I held her while she died, then I got up and went to the Circle to report the men that did it. I was ignored, called a liar, accused of being a jealous lover, of being a jilted whore. I was covered in the blood of a templar and an apostate and they insisted I was making the whole thing up. When I kept making noise they talked to my father, and he _handled_ me.”

Her story made Cullen unspeakably angry. He had known that there was a lot of corruption within the Templar ranks. It was part of the reason that he had sympathized so much with Hawke in the first place. The rumors of rapes, violence, cruelty, it was all enough to push doubts into even his fear stained mind. Once the doubts were there, it was easy for someone like Hawke to nurture them into full grown disagreements with what the order had become.

To hear such a personal account, from Autumn in particular, was another matter altogether. Cullen had never been more glad that he had left the order, nor more ashamed that he had been apart of it in the first place. He reached over and took her hand. He didn't know what to say, had no words to describe the anger and sorrow he felt, so he hoped the simple contact would convey some comfort to her. She laced her fingers with his automatically.

“Ugh, don't we have any happy questions for each other? We would be quite the disaster at parties.” her sarcasm was a sharp edge, an effort to erase the negative memory and lighten the mood.

“Well, my lady, I believe it's your turn. You are fully welcome to turn events around.”

She stood up, letting go of his hand as she walked over to one of the bookshelves, facing away from him and agitatedly running her palms up and down her thighs, as though she could brush away the events of her life.

“I'm not very good at lightening the mood. With my track record I'd ask a question meant to make you laugh and I'd just...I make you miserable.” she told the books before her. Her shoulders were tense, her posture stiff. She seemed to be afraid of something. Possibly of what she remembered, possibly of being so open with him. It filled him with the driving need to comfort her.

He stood up and walked over to her, touching her shoulder lightly. She turned around to face him, eyes upturned to view him through her long lashes.

“That's a lie. You make me smile all the time, more than I have in a long while.” his voice was pitched lower than he intended, but something about the way she looked with her head tilted up towards him had his heart shuddering in his chest. She took a half step backward, her back hitting the shelf, and she placed her hands on the wood bracing herself. He put his hands on either side of her, leaning in just a little as he devoured her with his eyes. A flush spread across her cheeks as she chewed on her lower lip again, and Cullen was sure he was losing his mind watching her white teeth rake over the plump, pink flesh.

“Alright, my turn then. Tell me what you're thinking.” she demanded, her voice shaking.

“That we're at war. That this is impossible. That I couldn't possibly deserve to be so close to you, that I want to...” his breath hitched when she licked her lips.

He gave up on any pretense of trying to talk. Grabbing her hips, he pulled her forward as he tilted his lips down to meet hers, pressing her into him even as he pressed her against the wall of the shelf. They both moaned in delighted surprise, his head spinning with the rush of feelings sweeping through him. Her lips parted for him willfully, delicate tongue meeting his own. She tasted like the wine, sweet and tart, but also a flavor underneath that was so distinctly _her_ that he couldn't possibly describe it. She wrapped her arms around his back, her fingers digging into him as he crushed them together, needing to give in to this moment as fully as possible after all the long months dreaming of it. She felt so amazingly perfect held against him that he thought his heart might burst.

Eventually he pulled back to take in a deep breath, unsure of how much time had passed during their lip lock. Both of them were panting, foreheads pressed together. He smiled, a broad grin he could not possibly have tried to suppress.

“Sorry for deflecting.” he murmured.

She laughed, a breathy sound that brushed against his lips as they were still so close. “That was exactly the answer I wanted.”

“Good.” he said, and kissed her again, starting with her lips and then trailing them across her jaw until he could nibble at her earlobe. He could feel her knees shaking, and she grabbed onto his back for support. He pulled away again so she could get her balance, pleased at finding he affected her so much.

She got a sly look on her face, a sultry grin and glint in her eye. “How long have you wanted to do that?”

“Longer than I should admit.” he grinned, kissed her again. She slapped his chest playfully.

“Deflection.” she admonished.

“From the very first moment I saw you in the Temple.” he admitted, hoping it wasn't too much even as he realized he didn't care. No lies, no secrets. She pressed her lips against his fervently, which he would consider a good indicator that his answer was not the wrong one.

 


	28. Creepy Orange...Creepything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cole does many things.

Autumn sat on the battlements with Cole, both of them swinging their legs and looking up into the sky, watching the birds dance joyfully beneath the cover of the clouds. Cole had a smile on his thin lips as they sat, which made her smile in turn. He always seemed happy to get to spend time with her when she was back in Skyhold. She made a point to come see him when she was home, so he knew that she remembered him. He always seemed so preoccupied with being remembered, she wondered how many people in his life had forgotten him.

“How have you been, Cole?” she asked him.

“You always worry, but it's okay. I am happy here, there are lots of people to help, and they don't all look at me with sharp edges anymore.” he lifted his head up, hat flopping comically. She playfully reached out and snatched it off the top of his head, putting it on her own. He laughed at that, patting the empty space it left like he didn't know what his own head felt like.

“I'm glad you're happy.” she smiled, patting him on the shoulder.

“I like our friends, too. I miss them when they are gone. It's quiet without them. Your voices are louder than others, I can hear them better.” he appeared confused about that. “Why?” he seemed to expect her to know.

She placed a finger over her lips, contemplating. “I suppose because we're friends? You always know how to read your friends better than strangers, because you care about them more.”

He nodded, satisfied with that answer.

“Where were you before you came to Haven?” she had been wondering that for some time, but rarely got time to sit with him long enough to ask.

“Dark....It was dark there. I would go where the hurt was the most, the strongest. I went and tried to help, but I couldn't always..trapped in the darkness, filling with red, it hurts and it sings and they can't see the light anymore, can't feel the sun through the ashes in the sky....” he shook his head, as he often did when snapping out of someone’s head or memory. “They were coming to hurt you, I didn't want to let them.” he sounded so sad. Autumn didn't really understand what he was talking about, but wherever he was before he found her must not have been pleasant to remember. She wrapped her arm around his shoulder and gave him a hug, using her other hand to put the hat back on his head.

“I'm glad you came, Cole.”

He beamed at her gratefully before hopping down from where they sat and scampering off like he had something he needed to do. She shook her head at his retreating figure, hoping that whatever happened he was safe and happy with them.

***

The birds tittered endlessly overhead as Faren sat on the edge of the battlements, flipping through the joke book as he let the wind jostle his hair back and forth.

_What do you get when you cross a dragon with a nug? Squished._

Roland would have loved it. He would have loved the stupid humor, especially the raunchy ones. Bria would have hated it, and Faren knew they would have tormented her by reciting different jokes for hours at a time, until she drew her bow and chased them with a volley of arrows, Laurel nipping at their heels as they ran. It was a vision that he could see as clear as the clouds in the day lit sky, a memory that he would never get to live through because they had been taken by a war that had been started with their blood. By the Stone, he missed them.

He was startled out of his mourning by an unholy screech from behind him, and he nearly fell off the stonework in surprise. He turned to see Sera, standing at the top of the stairwell and fuming, her eyes narrowed in his directly. She stalked forward and he threw up his hands in supplication, wishing he could back away without falling to his death.

“ _Thief!”_ she grabbed the collar of his shirt, yanking him off the wall so that she could lift him to her level, pressing her nose against his.

“W-what?” he felt the book slip from his grasp, landing on the ground with an ungainly thud.

Sera stomped her foot down on it, dragging it towards herself. “ _Mine._ How’d you even get in my room, you creepy orange…creepything?”

He swallowed thickly, feeling the tips of his toes brush against the ground as she held him aloft. She was intimidatingly strong for an elf. “I didn’t, I swear!”

She dropped him unceremoniously, and he crashed into the floor with a yelp of pain.”Liar.” She leaned down and picked up the book, dusting it off and glaring at him with disdain. “It’s mine and you have it. If you didn’t steal it, how’d you get it, liarpants?”

“He gave it to me!”

Sera stepped on his chest, preventing him from standing up. She didn’t weigh much, but the pressure from her foot was enough to make him wheeze in terror. “ _Who?”_

Faren worked his jaw open and closed wordlessly as he slowly and deliberately panicked. He had been trying to answer that question himself for weeks, wracking his brain trying to recall a single detail about the person that had gifted him the book. He knew that it was given to him, and he knew that he should know who it was that had done it, but beyond that he couldn’t remember. He had a vague sense of blue eyes, but that wasn’t very helpful when he lived in castle full of people, a great many of them with blue eyes.

Sera dug her heel into his ribs, making him cough and sputter. “I- I don’t know! I can’t remember!”

“Right, and I’m the Empress of Orlais.”

“That isn’t true.” Both Sera and Faren turned towards the voice that was likely saving Faren from certain doom. A lanky, blonde boy was standing next to Sera, looking down at Faren with a questioning look. He felt as though he should recognize the boy, his name on the tip of his tongue, but the memory escaped him.

Sera rolled her eyes. “I _know,_ Cole. That’s the point.”

The boy she called Cole was staring at Faren. “He forgot again. Maybe he will remember this time?”

“Nope, won’t be a next time, because I’m gonna chuck this tosser off the top of the bridge.” Sera sneered down at him and he tried to wriggle out from underneath her foot.

“Because he can’t remember where he got the book?” Cole blinked at her.

“Because he _stole_ the book. Keep up, Strawhat.”

“He didn’t steal the book.”

Sera sighed, finally lifting her foot and allowing Faren to scramble away, backing up against the wall. “Is that what it says in his head?”

“No, that’s what it says in my head.” Cole smiled, clueless, and Sera pinched the bridge of her nose in irritation.

“Did you make it up? Are you telling another joke, because that’s not how they bloody work.”

He tilted his head, and his massive hat slid to the left and flopped to the side. “No, I was there. I gave it to him, so I remember that in my head. Is that not how your head works?”

Sera paused for a long time, and Faren was beginning to think she wasn’t going to respond, that she had unwound like a clockwork toy and would be frozen there forever. The anger in her eyes told a different story, however, and Faren braced for the impact of the impending tantrum.

“You. Were. In. My. Room.” She punctuated each word with an action, drawing her bow, drawing an arrow, stringing it and pulling her arm back.

“Yes. I like it in there, everything you have talks about what it used to be.”

She screeched, the same inhuman sound that had startled Faren moments before, and she released the arrow, sending it straight through the middle of Cole’s hat. Cole looked upward as it tumbled off the top of his head. He looked back at Sera, and at the second arrow she was placing on her bow, and then he looked down at Faren.

“I have to go now, I hope that you remember next time.” The he turned and ran, darting around the corner as an arrow slammed into the wall where he had just been. Sera was off after him in a flash, leaving behind the book in a trail of dust kicked up by her booted feet.

Faren picked the book up, wiping away the dirt and grime, and he tucked it back in his pocket.

His life was very strange, he decided. He didn’t think of Roland or Bria as he went back to work, however. Somewhere further down the battlements, Cole smiled as he ran, knowing that he helped.

***

Cullen sat in his office, moodily oiling his armor and trying not to focus on the headache parading through his brain. Today was not shaping up to be one of the better days in his struggle against the lyrium settled in his bones. He glared at his reflection in the shining metal before him, wishing there was a way to not feel like the shadow of a person.

“Why do you have all that...pain?” a small voice interrupted the silence, and Cullen cursed and nearly jumped out of his skin, the armor clattering to the floor.

Cullen looked at the source of the sound and saw Cole, the strange young man Autumn had decided to let stick around after Haven. Cole gave Cullen the creeps, and he couldn't understand why she trusted having him here He looked relatively harmless, for the most part, a mess of gangly limbs and awkwardness, a boy who never grew out of his adolescence. There was an endless quality to the depth in his eyes, though, that set a lot of people at odds, not just Cullen. His tendency to spout out the things that he heard in people’s heads didn't help, either. It was often hard to understand the things he read in people, most of it sounding like nonsense, but it was still creepy. Solas claimed they were so jumbled because thoughts weren't clear, that people thought on many levels all at the same time and it wouldn't be like speaking, where one thing came out at a time. Still, it was awkward to have an innermost thought or feeling aired without permission.

“Cole, don't sneak up on me like that!” Cullen scolded him. He was trying his best to be nice to him, especially after Autumn had brought him to task for saying the boy was eerie. For good or ill, Autumn wanted him treated with respect, and Cullen was not about to go against her wishes. Particularly after the most recent developments between them.

“Sorry.” was all he said, but he looked at Cullen expectantly, waiting for an answer to his question. Cullen sighed heavily, knowing the curious lad would never let it go.

“I stopped taking lyrium when I left the templars, and it makes...it hurts when you stop.”

“Burning, loss, regret, never should have done it knew it wasn't right but wanted to save, to help, wrong way, wrong time look where it got them, all those people dead and dying this isn't helping this isn't saving what have I done.” Cole shook his head violently, breaking back out of Cullen's thoughts. Cullen closed his eyes, a shudder running up and down his spine as he battled his tumultuous emotions. It was bad enough trying to ignore the thoughts in his own head. Cole voicing them out loud made it so much worse.

“I am sorry...the hearing doesn't help.” Cole looked very apologetic, and Cullen gave him a warm smile. Despite his creepiness, he couldn't deny that Cole always seemed to want to help when he pried the way he did.

“Cole, can I ask you something?”

“Yes.” he was so serious, and looked as though he would do anything for approval. Cullen suddenly felt bad for all his fear towards him. Perhaps Autumn had the right of it, and Cole was worth more respect than he received.

“What...are you?” he tried to put it as delicately as he could. He wasn't asking to hurt him, he was simply curious.

“I used to be...a nothing, watching from the other side. But I want to help, I liked it when people felt better from the hurts. So I came through to be real, to help better.”

Well that didn't explain much. Cullen was not good at interpreting things like that, although he made a mental note to remember the odd explanation so he could pass it along to Autumn or Solas. They were always interested in that sort of thing, and a whole lot better at understanding it.

“Why did you come find us?” Cullen found that he suddenly really did want to know more about the boy. Maker help him, he must be spending too much time with Autumn, her cursed curiosity was rubbing off on him.

“It was...bright. Like the sun, I followed the glow. She is...more than that, though, now that I am here. She likes to help, like me. I like that.” Cole smiled at him, and Cullen realized that he was talking about Autumn.

“Warm, love, can't stand it half the time but need to be near her not worthy too lucky but she is life, she is everything would she hate me if she knew of all the dark, the pain, the failure...” Cole blinked at him after shaking his head. “You make her happy.” he said, and then without warning he wandered out of the room before Cullen could respond.

He smiled to himself, shaking his own head at the strange company they kept. He didn't make a lot of sense, was still a little creepy, but Cole was a good kid. He picked up his armor off of the floor and returned to his work, but his heart was a little lighter after that. _I make her happy._

 


	29. Who Looks at That and Thinks "Oh, That's a Good Idea"?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Autumn meets Erimond and doesn't care for him much.

_Sister,_

_I never thought I would find a place I hate walking through more than that fucking blizzard._

_Fuck the sun. Have I mentioned I sunburn easily? I look like a fucking lobster._

_Approaching the meeting point soon._

_Cleared out some vermin from a lovely vacation spot. Maybe you could send some people and they can all get fucking fried in this heat too._

_Keep your people standing by, if they haven't all melted._

_-Hummingbird_

 

“Why is it, exactly, that wherever we go the weather is miserable?” Dorian grumbled, blotting the rivulets of sweat off of his forehead with a lacy handkerchief that was already soaked through. “Furthermore, why is it I have to be dragged everywhere with you?”

“Love, how could I possibly live without seeing your sparkling face in the morning?” Autumn was puffing out breath between every other word. Her face felt like it was on fire, burned long before Cole had given her his hat to protect her pale skin from the sun. It didn't seem fair that the spirit-boy didn't burn, but she supposed it was one of the perks of being not-quite-human. She must look utterly ridiculous, she thought to herself. Her armor was clinging to her skin, face so red from the sun she could accurately call herself cooked, Cole's dusty had sitting atop her sweat drenched hair, the sunlight passing through the fresh hole in the top of it that he refused to explain, dust and grit clinging to her everywhere as the wind blew sand onto her damp skin.

Dorian sniffed arrogantly. “Well, one of us has to come along to be the attractive Inquisition representative. We can't all turn into withered husks.”

She rewarded him with a swift punch in the shoulder. He squealed and rubbed the spot. “Quiet you or I will send you off on a mission with Vivienne next time.”

“The day you make me trek off somewhere alone with her is the day I start disobeying your orders, oh fearless leader.”

“Is that treason I hear? I hear the sentence for that is death. Beheading. Rather gruesome, I'm afraid.”

He snorted. “You're not a queen, so I can't commit treason against you, and you would never behead me. I'm far too handsome.”

“She could always keep your head as a souvenir, mounted above her fireplace. It would be the best of both worlds.” Bull rumbled from behind them. Autumn laughed as Dorian jumped in surprise and cursed in Tevene.

“At least it would be a better sight than yours. The horns would be so tacky.” he snapped.

“I'm pretty sure the part of me I would want preserved wouldn't be out on display.” the Qunari waggled his eyebrows salaciously at the mage.

“Get a room, you two.” Varric shouted. Dorian made an irritated noise and stalked off ahead of the group, his robes trailing in the sand as he went.

“One of these days, Bull, that man is going to turn around and set you on fire, and I'm not going to do a thing to stop him.” she told the Qunari affectionately.

The big man chuckled. “He keeps promising, but never follows through. Such a tease.”

She laughed as they continued on, the exchange making her feel just a little less miserable.

When they finally arrived at the rendezvous point, Autumn could see the Tevinter ruin just over the crest of the sand dune. It was an odd structure to behold, a small fort that amounted to little more than a fortified staircase. There was a great archway in the front connected to a wall that separated the area from the sweltering sands around it, and within that there was a structure with a grand staircase ascending onto a platform. Of course, the architecture was all dark stone and spiked edges, because Tevinter didn't seem to be able to make anything that didn't look comically foreboding.

“Thank the Maker you're here, if I had to spend one more minute alone with these two I might have just let loose and murdered everyone.” Lilly grumbled when she saw them. Autumn glanced over and saw Stroud and Anders standing together, facing away from one another, arms crossed and expressions furious. They looked like a pair of fighting children who had been placed in time out.

“I thought Anders was staying out of it while we were working with Stroud?”

Lilly rolled her eyes. “He was, until he found out there might be fighting, and then he insisted on coming with me. Because apparently I'm a helpless little girl who needs a big strong apostate to save me.” she shot a venomous glare back at him.

“I will not have this argument with you again, Lilly. It's done, I'm here. You can't send me back now.” the mage groused.

“Enough, this desert is miserable enough without having to listen to a lover's quarrel.” Autumn grumbled at them. She wasn't sure how much she liked the idea of having a possessed warden mage along while they were investigating strange dealings with the wardens. If this calling was affecting all wardens, would Anders be a liability?

“I don't know. A little drama might greatly improve this Maker cursed fade-hole.” Dorian quipped.

“Drama, rain, completely removing the place off the map, all of those are options.” Lilly grinned at him.

“Hey, eyes up front. Something's going on down there.” Varric interrupted the exchange.

As a group they looked down onto the ruins. Autumn could see there were people gathered at the platform on top of the stairs, and there seemed to be flickering flashes of light illuminating the dark walls every now and then.

She felt the wave of sickening energy waft over her before Anders even spoke, didn't need his admission to know it was bad news. “That's blood magic.” he growled. Autumn's stomach rolled.

“Come on, we're late to the party.” Lilly said, standing up and taking off across the dunes, rushing into the ruin. Autumn met the eyes of her team, and with the briefest of nods they all dashed off on her heels.

They barged into the scene in time to see a Warden murdered, stabbed in the back by another warden, much to Autumn's shock and dismay. As the man fell limply to the ground, a demon rose up in his place, screeching in rage as its fiery form entered the physical world. A man at the very top of the shrine commanded the warden to bind the demon, and with a wave of his hand he did, the demon quieting and following its new master as he went to stand in line with his fellow wardens, who were standing with similar demon pairings.

“Fuck.” Autumn stared at the scene, wondering who the fuck agreed to such tactics.

“Ah, Inquisitor, what an unexpected surprise.” the mage at the front said, a smug smile spreading across his face. He was a tall, oily looking man with a greasy, unkempt beard and beady little eyes. Autumn wanted to smack the look right off his face, immediately and painfully.

“Whatever the fuck you're doing here it stops. Now.” she said, anger bubbling over as she saw the blood pooling on the stones from the bodies of several wardens. There had been more than one murder on the steps that day.

“Inquisitor, my deepest apologies. No doubt you are used to having your will obeyed by now. I regret that I will have to disappoint you. But let us not be hasty, let us not forget our manners. Allow me to introduce myself. Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium, at your service.” the man gave a great flourish of his arms and bowed low, every muscle in his body exuding sarcasm and disrespect.

She grabbed the daggers off her back, gripping the hilts so tight that she heard the leather wrappings groan. “I don't give a shit who you are, you little cockroach -”

“You shouldn't threaten me.” he said darkly, the grin on his features steady in the face of her rage. “But I should thank you. You have brought me a new toy! Anders, I believe? The Wardens have talked a great deal about you. You will make a lovely addition to my master's collection.” the man readied a spell, casting it towards Anders before any of them had a chance to react.

The spell hit Anders in the chest, and for a moment if felt like the very air around them had been sucked away, the spell just hanging there, as though time had been paused. Then Anders screamed, his voice changing to a completely different timbre, one that was colder, harsher by far than the soft spoken sound Autumn had come to know. His skin lit up, engulfed in blue flame from within. It looked as if his flesh was cracking, a hard shell breaking to pieces, letting light out through the fissures that cascaded across him, sending bright ripples and distorted shadows over through the air.

“You dare attempt to control the Wardens?” he cried, standing. Whatever Erimond had been trying to do, it certainly wasn't this. The man blanched visibly, his arrogant veneer dropping in a heartbeat to be replaced by raw terror.

Erimond grabbed his staff, pointing at the group preparing to rip him to shreds. “Wardens, take them!” Then he turned and fled.

Autumn went to go after him, but they were set upon by the wardens and demons so fast it was all she could do not to be slaughtered by their mindless ferocity. She could hear Stroud trying to plead with them to no avail, their faces masks of calm, emotionless focus, as though they had all been made tranquil. Anders was frightful to watch, summoning bolts of lightening so strong the air crackled around them, tingling against her skin and awakening something in the mark that made it vibrate in her palm. She could watch only for a moment as he rained destruction on the wardens before she had to focus on her own fights. Gritting her teeth, she ignored the fact that she was killing wardens, the heroes that protected them from blights, ignored the fact that she was killing people, men and women dedicated to a higher purpose, and she dove into battle and began her dance.

Sometimes, when her anger was sharp, when her adrenaline was high, she would leap into battle and feel like she was dancing. It was as though there was some silent rhythm pulsing through her, guiding her steps while she dodged, lunged, pivoted, jumped around her enemies. In these moments it was like everything in the world faded. The only thing that existed was her beating heart, her swinging blades, extensions of herself that carried the music of death on their edge like a voice raised in praise to a god who no longer listened. She heard the prayer, she heard the voice, and she danced to carry out its will, danced to bring down those who had invoked the song. Sometimes when Autumn fought she was the siren song of the Void, calling to those who dared step in her way.

The fight was over quickly, but not fast enough for anyone to pursue Erimond. Varric was injured, the claw of a rage demon nearly searing his leg to the bone, and Solas was kneeling next to him trying to heal him while the rest of her team tried to secure the area.

“I will find him and bring him to justice!” Anders that was not Anders was screaming. Lilly stepped forward in front on him, holding her hands up, palms out as though she were ready to physically restrain him.

“Justice! Stop! It's over!” her voice was strained in a way Autumn hadn’t heard before, stretched thin and taught by years of anguish and torment.

“It is not over!”

She placed her hands on his chest, carefully, as though afraid he would burn her. Autumn realized that was exactly what she was afraid of when she heard the sizzle of flesh at the contact, Lilly's face contorting into a mask of pain. Anders stopped then, looking down at her.

“Lilly, no....” he said, and then the glow receded from his body, returning him back to his normal self. He wrapped his arms around her in an instant, yanking her close to his chest, a sob escaping his lips. “Lilly, my love, I'm so sorry.” his voice had returned to normal and was full of regret and sorrow.

“It's okay, I'm alright. He saved you.” she was whispering to him. Autumn looked away, not wanting to see the pain etched on both their faces any longer. Instead she turned her attention to Stroud.

“This was Clarel's plan? Did you know this was what they were up to?” she snapped.

“No, Inquisitor. I knew they were using dark magic, but I never...never this.” he shook his head, anguish in his eyes.

“Blood magic? Demons? Who looks at that and thinks 'oh, that's a good idea'?” Lilly stalked over to them, ever footfall punctuating her rage. Anders had sat down on a step to rest, looking weary down to his very bones.

“I...cannot defend my comrade’s actions.” Stroud bowed his head.

“The calling, it's not the true calling. Now that I can hear it in my head I’m sure. It's Corypheus, I recognize his voice. It's all his plan, enslaving the wardens, raising the demons, it's all him.” Anders said despondently from where he sat.

“Someone needs to follow Erimond. We cannot let him escape.” Solas nearly spat from where he was kneeling with Varric. Autumn could feel the contempt radiating off of him.

“I will go, track him as best I can while you return to your Inquisition. I will send word when I know where he is headed and what he is up to.” Stroud bowed stiffly.

“Alright, lets get back before I summon a rift to swallow this whole fucking place.” Autumn growled.

 


	30. Her Breath was Life in his Mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cullen doesn't take from her, Cullen receives another letter, Bull and Dorian have some issues, and a dragon is slain off screen.

Everything was burning pain. Cullen felt like his blood was on fire, filled with little flecks of broken glass, tearing at his veins. His head was pounding and his muscles felt weak and sore. The withdrawals were very, very bad today. He was standing at his desk, leaning over a vial of the stuff he was desperately trying not to take. So much pain, so much horrible memories invading his mind....and it was crippling him. How could he be the man the Inquisition needed him to be when he felt like this?

The bottle glinted maliciously at him in the candlelight. It felt like it was radiating evil, and yet all he wanted to do was open it and down its contents, to feel the rush of power that he got from its use, to ease the pain that wracked his body. He reached out and picked it up, lifting it in the light to glare at it.

No. He could not. Oh, but he _wanted_ to.

With a cry of anguish he flung the bottle as hard as he could at the door, wishing to be rid of the damn thing, to smash the temptation and pain against the wall as hard as he could. There was a satisfying shatter as it hit and he heard glass scatter throughout the room from the impact.

The cry of pain the bottle made surprised him....no, not the bottle. He looked up, his mind feeling hazy, and saw Autumn standing in the open doorway, hand clutching her cheek, a look of surprise and hurt on her face. A nightmare? He blinked, his vision wavering. No, she was really there. She must have returned finally. He shook his head as he took in her dusty armor and the trail weary sag in her shoulders.

“Maker's breath! I didn't hear you come in! Are you alright?” the fog was lifting from his mind and as he snapped back to reality, what had just happened settling into his chest like an avalanche of ice cold rocks. He _knew_ that he would eventually hurt her, knew he was never worthy of her. He placed his hand over his mouth, trying to muffle a strangled sob. “I'm so sorry, please, forgive me!” he hung his head in shame, not able to stand the worry and hurt pooling in her eyes, not able to stand the way she looked as she watching his hand quaking against his lips. “I did not mean to be this, to do this to you...” he gasped, feeling himself tear into a thousand tiny, pain filled pieces. He couldn’t breathe, there was no air, as his lung struggled to pull in life all they found was heat and fetid death.

Suddenly she was there beside him, saying something. He shook his head, still apologizing, not even sure what he was saying anymore. He was a lunatic, raving of regrets, and now she would see the broken man that he was, now she would see how disgusting and _weak_ that he could be.

“Cullen!” her voice was intense, and she grabbed his chin, pulling his face up to look at her and startling him out of his ranting. Fear was etched on her brow, on her cheeks, on her lips, concern and worry....but not pain. “Cullen I'm fine!”

She was. She wasn't. There was a small, red cut on the side of her cheek, just below her eye. It was barely a thing, not even really bleeding, but it represented everything that he was afraid he could ever do to her. In one small cut he saw all her life draining away before his eyes, just as it did in his nightmares, leaving behind a cold corpse that would laugh as he tried to make her heart beat again.

“No, I did this to you!” tears filled his eyes, blurring out his vision. “I am so sorry, Autumn, I never meant to hurt you.”

“Cullen, you haven't. I _am fine_. You haven't done anything you need to apologize for.” her voice was a calm breeze in a vicious storm, her eyes a lifeline back to the world. Her hands were on him, on his face and neck, her fingers caressing him in gentle strokes. She was so full of warmth and serenity.

Cullen pushed her back up against the wall, slamming her against it and into him, kissing her desperately, trying to take her calm and her affections and anything about her that he could, trying to take pieces of her to make him whole again. He pressed himself into her, to become a part of her, to ease his pain. He needed this, he needed her, needed release. She made a sound, deep in the back of her throat, a moan that stretched out and wrapped around him, swallowing him with need. It was pain and pleasure and feral, awakening parts of him that lurked in the shadows. He ground his hips against hers, wanting more, wanting to make her scream, needing to hear her voice cut through the air to drown out the nightmares in the back of his head. His hands dug into the side of her hip as he pulled her closer, always closer, fingers pressing bruises into the willing flesh beneath. She gasped, arching her back, and her breath was life in his mouth.

Just as abruptly he let her go, forcing himself to take a step back, gasping as his body shuddered violently. Not like this. He would not _use_ her to make himself feel better. He would not _take_ pieces her of in the process. He wanted to share things with her, to care for her, to have them both experience the deep wonder that he felt when he was with her. This was not that. This was desperate and anguished and selfish, and he would not ruin this, ruin what they had in that way.

She did not move from where she was, did not say anything, and simply let him catch his breath for a time. He could feel his heartbeat start to return to normal, feel the pain in his head and limbs recede back from their momentous levels, back to a bearable state. With great effort, he forced himself to open his eyes and look at her, to see how much damage he had done in this moment of weakness, half expecting her to have fled.

Miraculously she was still there. Worry etched in her face, her brow furrowed as she watched him. Tears were in her eyes but not yet spilling over.

He took a deep breath, shivering as he remembered the feel of her air in his throat. “Forgive me.”

She looked at him still, her gaze considering. After a moment she spoke, her voice clear and calm. “Cullen, if you need anything from me, I want you to know I’m here for you.”

He didn't deserve that. She must know, on some level, that he had wanted to use her to ease his pain. She shouldn't want to let that happen, shouldn’t be offering that. Yet there she stood, her eyes searching his, her worry a palpable aura filling the room. He had reduced her to this, and he didn’t deserve the mercy that she would give him in turn.

She walked the short distance to him and wrapped her arms around him, pulling his head down into her neck, embracing him gently yet firmly.

“I do not deserve you.” was all he could manage to say, her compassion touching him deeply.

She did not reply, but she stayed holding him, brushing her fingers through his hair to relax him. Eventually she had to leave, but she gave him a loving kiss before she went. He regretted this entire scenario deeply, regretted making her feel the way he had, regretted that being the first experience they had after her return from this last long mission. He did, however, feel much better than he had before the incident, and took some relief in that. He could only hope he could repair the damage that had been done.

*******

Bull watched discreetly as Dorian sauntered into the tavern, his hips swaying lazily with every stride. The mage held the Qunari's interest lately, and Bull didn't seem to know what to do with that fact other than tease the man mercilessly. He knew that it was mean, but couldn't seem to help himself.

_Dorian, you certainly handle your staff so expertly_...sneering at him like some kind of savage

_Something I'm sure_ you _know nothing about._ the man had replied.

_Give me an hour and I could prove otherwise._

_Not even in my worst nightmares._

It has stung, and Bull didn’t want to admit or understand why. Ever since the handsome man had shown up he had complicated things.

Bull almost wished he could go back to the simpler days of lusting after Autumn...not that it had ever really been an option in the first place. She had rebuffed Bull so thoroughly the time he _had_ made a pass at her that his heart had not been in it for awhile. She was quite a woman, but she was not a woman Bull could make happy, and deep down he knew that. He loved her fiercely, but it was the love between best friends, between brother and sister. Oh but it had been so much less complicated then, so much more lust and rejection than this odd _pining_ that he was doing for Dorian. Only instead of competing for affection against another woman (or man, as it would have been in this case), he was competing against two sides of an ancient hatred between their countries. Dorian looked at Bull with fear and distrust because of what he was, regardless of who he was, and Bull was ashamed that he had done the same when they first met the pretty mage.

Autumn saw through those veneers, as she always did, and brought a good man into the folds of their team. Because he _was_ a good man, kind and passionate, always seeking to help others. He was a talented fighter on the field, wielding his magic impressively, and off of the field he was charming, quick witted, and kind to those he met. Most people, anyhow. He had a certain sneering, dismissive air for Bull, but he supposed that was his own fault. The way he treated Dorian in the beginning was unfair, distrusting him despite his actions proving his intent, and treating him like one of the bastards from his country. Bull had met so many mages from Tevinter that were downright evil that it was hard to not assume Dorian was the same. It was racist, and ignorant, and he was mortified that's what he had done. He had just been so overprotective of Autumn, and they spent so much time meeting people who _did_ want to kill her that he had made the wrong conclusion.

Bull sulked in his drink, wishing for all the world that it was strong enough to send him back in time to give the man a chance. Instead of allowing himself to make a good friend, he had snarled and growled like the slavering savage Dorian expected him to be, and they had been at odds ever since. So he made mean sexual comments that made the mage uncomfortable, and Dorian returned with jabs about his brutish appearance, both of them trying to dig in the deepest barbs of hurt.

He would have to find a way to change things, Bull resolved. If he wanted to be friends with the man he would have to make the effort to undo the hate that he had blindly fostered. Bull was nervous to try, nervous to be rejected. Dorian was a _good_ man.

It was so irritating to be taken with someone in this way. He lusted after people, wanted them, took them with raw passion, but he had never looked at anyone the way Dorian made him look. He certainly lusted, oh the things he wanted to do to that perfectly tan physique...but it was something deeper than that, something that made him want to look into his eyes and see only himself reflected back. Now, he didn't see himself, he only saw the beast Bull behaved as, but he wanted Dorian to see him, all of him, even the parts he kept hidden from others, even the parts he only showed to the quiet night. He didn't know what that meant, didn't know how to process that kind of attraction to someone. So he lazily kept up a facade of contempt, not giving himself the chance to figure it out. It was easier than the alternative, the possibility that he could never get that from Dorian.

So he watched, silently, as Dorian cavorted with Sera across the tavern, Sera discussing the finer points of the female anatomy while Dorian scoffed with disgust. Bull smiled to himself at their antics. Andraste's tits, did he have to be so damned _adorable?_

Yes, he would definitely have to try harder to be a better person around the man, before he started hating himself as much as he liked Dorian.

Bull was grateful that his reverie was interrupted when Autumn plopped down next to him, heaving a grumpy sigh.

“Trouble in paradise, boss?” he asked her, letting his eyebrow lift up. She glared at him in response, lifting her hand to let Cabot know that she needed a drink. Bull let her sit in silence with him until her order arrived and she took a long pull of the ale. He noticed that she had a small cut on the side of her cheek. “You wanna talk about that cut or should I just start hitting people until I find the right person?”

“I cut myself shaving.” she said bitterly, and despite himself Bull laughed.

“That must be a fucking masterpiece of beard you're keeping at bay, Boss.”

“Didn't you know? I'm secretly dwarven. Shit grows everywhere.” she grinned, and Bull laughed again, the image of the dainty woman covered in facial hair too ridiculous to resist.

“Alright, alright, that joke earns you the reward of keeping your secrets.” he took a gulp of his own drink, finishing it off and setting the mug on the table. “So, you seem like you might need it as much as I do...wanna do something special tomorrow?”

“Does it involve killing something?”

“Don't all my plans?”

She grinned, a real smile that lit up her eyes at last.“That's why I like you, Bull. You always know how to show a girl a good time.”

*******

When he returned to his office after talking to Cassandra he felt better. The Seeker had assured him that she still believed in his abilities to command their forces, that he was not performing as miserably as he felt. Cullen no longer felt like he was falling apart, no longer felt like he was on death's door. For the moment he could continue to endure.

The sight of another crow, dead on his desk, ruined it all.

 

_Cullen,_

_Inquisitor now, I hear._

_I was told I could have her, later. She's lovely. Good bone structure._

_You could have had this power. You weren't strong enough to grasp it._

_You abandoned your destiny._

_-Samson_

 

He immediately sent for Leliana, who repeated much the same process that she had the first time.

“He's obviously trying to get inside your head, playing mind games to make you weak.” Leliana tapped her foot absentmindedly as she considered things.

“I don't care about why he's doing it, I want to know how he's doing it, find him, and take him out.” he snapped at her. Despite knowing that it was exactly what the man wanted, Cullen couldn't help reacting strongly to the letters. Did Samson even know about himself and Autumn? How could anyone know about that already?

Leliana lifted an eyebrow at him. “Don't worry about Autumn, I have people watching out for her anyways, but I doubled the efforts after the first note. She's protected by my people here and her people out there.”

Her reassurances felt hollow to him, knowing that Samson could be out there watching Autumn. “Leliana, find out where he is.We need to take him out before something happens.” Cullen's voice was sharp with determination.

“Of course, Commander. I'll make it a priority.” she nodded her head. Then, when she could see that he looked no more at ease than before, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “We'll protect her. Don't worry, Cullen.”

Leliana left, and Cullen felt as though worry might eat him alive.

***

_Cullen,_

_I couldn't stay to talk to you, Bull has something we have to take care of, but I didn't want to leave without saying something._

_You should know that I really respect what you're doing. I think you're incredibly brave to even attempt it, and even though I'm scared every minute of every day of what it might do to you, I am so proud of you for trying. You're kind of my hero, I guess. Whatever._

_But let me make one thing absolutely, completely, perfectly crystal clear, because I know you are probably fretting about it already and you should just stop it right now: This doesn't change anything between us. I still care about you. I'm still glad you kissed me senseless in the library._

_I'm still gonna keep missing your smirk whenever I'm away._

_See you when I get back._

_Yours always,_

_-Autumn_

 

_**_

_Inquisitor,_

_I followed Erimond to the Warden fortress Adamant. Western Approach was just a test. They are performing the ritual to summon more demons. Come as soon as you can, bring forces._

_-Stroud_

 

***

There was an unusual furor of activity sweeping through Skyhold for this time of day, interrupting Cullen as he tried to work. He walked out onto the battlements, curious to see what all the fuss was about. He sighted a large group of people surrounding the entrance to the hold, cheering and pointing, running about excitedly. He could guess that Autumn had finally returned from her excursion to the Hinterlands, but was confused by all the over-exuberance it was causing. Certainly people were always happy to see her and her team return safely, him more than most, but he had never seen them celebrate at the gates before.

He didn't have to wait long to have his questions answered, however, because the team strode through the gate in short order, an air of victory hovering around them. Bull was strutting, standing tall with Autumn hoisted up onto his shoulders, her arms held into the air in triumph. Varric and Dorian followed just behind, and behind _them_ a team of men pulling a cart that supported a massive dragon's head. The thing was huge, bigger than ten men, and required several people to pull it's weight. Orange and green scales speckled its body, and dead vicious eyes stared out at the crowd accusingly, its long gray tongue lolling out the side of its mouth, which was parted to reveal row after row of razor sharp teeth.

Maker's breath, had they killed that thing? That was the skull of a high dragon, one of the most deadly creatures in all of Thedas. Cullen laughed to himself as he watched the crowd swell around them, pushing them towards the tavern to celebrate. Autumn looked utterly swept up in the moment, celebrating what must have been an incredible fight. Bull looked euphoric as well. Cullen knew the large man had _always_ wanted to kill a dragon.

Cullen shook his head and laughed softly to himself. Of course she would start dragon hunting. She was always stumbling into new ways to put herself in danger, it seemed. Although he could hardly fault her this one...the positive effect this would have on morale would be massive, and based on the look he could see on her face, this would do wonders for her own spirits. Aching to go down and celebrate with them, but knowing that he had work to complete first, Cullen spun on his heels and went back to his office to try and finish before the party in the tavern was over. He had to congratulate her, after all.

***

Dorian was ridiculously drunk. His head was swimming warmly as the air buzzed with celebration for their feat. Maker's mercy, he had helped take down a _dragon_. It was amazing, feeling so powerful and adored. He wasn't used to the feeling, as most people regarded him with disdain for being a mage from Tevinter. Yet suddenly this crowd of people was celebrating him for being _Autumn’s_ mage from Tevinter. The man who had helped kill one of the deadliest creatures in Thedas.

He watched, bemused, as Sera and Autumn danced together in the center of the room, singing the tavern song “The women of the Inquisition”, which described a great many of their own body parts rather laboriously. The crowd was loving it, however, clapping along fervently, and the two women seemed to be enjoying themselves as well, so he could hardly be concerned about decorum at a time like this.

The chair next to him creaked in protest as Bull sat his massive form upon it. Dorian tried to suppress the anxiety that crept up in his chest, putting on the air of discontent that he had perfected for whenever the massive man was around. Dorian knew that Bull was not the man he pretended to be, not the man Dorian wished he was. Dorian wanted to believe that he was a mindless brute, not capable of being subtle or compassionate. He knew Bull was a good man, could not doubt it after seeing the way he cared for Autumn and protected her, or how he went out of his way to help people all the time, from stranded noble to injured peasant. But if Dorian let himself think about that, let himself believe the good things about the Qunari...it was too much to process. He wouldn't think on it tonight. It was just too good a night to waste on ridiculous attractions that would amount to nothing.

“Not enjoying the show?” the man said, winking at Dorian. Dorian resisted the urge to laugh heartily. Being winked at by a one eyed man was certainly a new experience.

“Oh, no worries, I'm sure _someone_ is.” Dorian scowled at Bull. To his credit, Bull actually looked slightly embarrassed, and Dorian immediately felt bad. He was too mean to the man and he knew it, but it was all part of pretending that he hated him. All part of keeping up the necessary veneer between them to protect himself. His life was lies stacked upon lies, a tower of deceit, and he didn’t know how to live outside of that.

Bull said nothing for some time, watching the women as they finished their song with an overindulgent dance on top of one of the tables. Autumn, almost as drunk as Dorian had ever seen, nearly lost her balance, and had to grab onto Sera to stabilize herself. Sera used the opportunity to grab Autumn and hoist her into the air, twirling her around in an expert dance move that Dorian never would have guessed the crazy archer could have executed...nor with such grace. The girls dissolved into giggles as the crowd cheered. Dorian smiled warmly at the pair, unable to help himself.

“I wanted to say thank you.” Bull said, catching Dorian off guard with the sudden sincerity.

“Whatever for?” his voice registered his shock all too well.

“You were really impressive in that fight. I’m not sure we would have made it out in the same amount of pieces if you hadn't been there.” Bull nodded at him respectfully. No jokes, no seething resentment for his country of origin, just honest sentiment. Dorian had no idea what to say. “I also wanted to thank you for...being you, I suppose.” the man awkwardly cracked his knuckles, clearly trying to find a way to distract himself from the now uncomfortable moment hovering between them.

“I...uh...well...” Dorian blustered, trying to find a quick retort somewhere in his spinning head. He was furious at himself for being caught off guard, cursing his brain for its lack of proper wit.

“You're there for her when she needs it, and that's a damn good thing, mage.” Bull nodded at Autumn, now laying on the floor panting while Sera skipped around her in a circle. Dorian softened a bit watching his friend, warming whenever he thought about their attachment to each other. Dorian had never had a best friend before, but he knew without a doubt that he had found one in the boisterous woman currently floor-bound.

“How could I not be?” he replied, and Bull grunted with agreement.

“Anyways, I just wanted you to know that I appreciate you.” he said, and then patted Dorian on the back before getting up and hauling himself over to Autumn, picking her prone form up off the floor and tossing her over his shoulder like she was a sack of treasure. The inebriated redhead immediately started giggling, and demanded to be carried to “her commander”, pointing her arms towards the door. Dorian laughed even while he sat mystified at the Qunari's kind words. This was not good. Bull couldn't start treating him like a person, not now, or he would never be able to keep his distance. Despite his worry and bluster, however, Dorian couldn't quite get the smile on his face to fade as he turned back to his drink.

***

It had taken Cullen longer than he wanted to finish everything up before he could finally walk down to the tavern. Drunken battle songs could be heard drifting through the night air, but people had started to stumble their way out to bed, the sun having sunk below the horizon quite some time ago. He was almost to the building when the door opened and Bull strode out confidently, a familiar pair of boots being held by his giant hands while the rest of the body dangled over the back of his shoulder.

He could hear Autumn giggling incessantly behind Bull's back, and caught sight of her arms swinging from side to side. Bull noticed Cullen and headed over to him.

“I believe this belongs to you.” the great man said, laughter in his voice. He turned to the side and Cullen could see Autumns face, glowing with pride and drink, dangling in the air. She smiled at him adoringly, her hair splayed out around her head in a crazy pattern, gravity doing its part to make her more endearing than ever..

“Cullen!” she cried, holding out her hands to him. “Cullen, I killed a dragon!” she giggled, and he smiled at her, wondering if there was anything better than that sound.

“I heard.” he smirked at her, shaking his head at her inebriated state. He walked up and took her hands, giving them a quick squeeze before grabbing her shoulders and pulling her into his arms while Bull let go of her legs, releasing her. He managed to keep her from falling, but she swayed precariously.

“See you later Boss. Night, Cullen.” Bull saluted and then walked towards the back of the tavern where the stairs to his room were located.

Autumn was staring into his eyes, warmth and desire emanating from her, a heady fog of joy and lust.

“Honestly, Autumn, a dragon?” he asked incredulously. “You never cease to amaze me.”

She waved her hand in a drunken arc, dismissing the idea. “Shhhh...” giggling, she wrapped her arms around his neck, planting a kiss on his lips. He answered in turn, unable to resist, dropping his arms around her waist and pulling her into him. She laughed against his lips, her breath smelling of sweet wine and strawberries. “Cullen, I think Bull got me drunk.” she told him, in a matter of fact manner, a serious expression on her rosy face.

“I can see that. Come on, my lady, let's get you to bed.” He swooped her up in his arms, deciding that this would go easier on both of them if he just carried her to her room.

“Yes please!” she purred, giving him a smoldering look. He gulped, trying to hide the flush that was spreading over his skin. They had already drawn the attention of everyone in the courtyard with their affectionate display, and he could see a few guards snickering at him. No matter. It was hard to keep caring what other people knew about them when he got to keep kissing her and holding her. When she was with him, the only thing that mattered was that she was there. When she was gone, the only thing that mattered was that she return. _She_ certainly didn't seem to mind what other people said or thought, so he figured that he could stand to let those things go as well. Mostly it was all positive gossip anyhow. Either people were jealous of his luck or celebratory of a “classic fairy tale” pairing. He rolled his eyes, wondering briefly how it was that people never seemed to have anything better to do than gossip.

A dark part of him was happy that word was spreading of their relationship because he hoped that Samson would hear it. He was fearful of how he might react, but he desperately wanted him to know, to understand that Cullen would do anything to protect her.

She snuggled herself into his neck, her face cold from the night air. A giddy smile played across her face, and she sighed with content. Cullen was, he decided, the luckiest man alive.

They reached her room and he set her down on the bed, preparing to tuck her in before he left for the night, but before he could do anything else she grabbed his collar and pulled him down on top of her. Giggling furiously, she planted kisses all over his neck, working her way to his face, then sensuously claiming his lips. Despite himself, a groan of pleasure made its way up and out of his throat. She returned the sound, pulling him closer to her.

It was with great fortitude and reluctance that he pulled back, looking into her eyes. They were filled with desire and want, triumph and bravery, but also a lot of inebriation. He wanted this, he so _very_ much wanted this, the pit of his stomach filling with need that spread through his groin and all the way up and down his spine. But this was not the right way, not the right time. They had only just started...whatever it was they were doing, and he couldn't take advantage of her in this state, no matter how much she seemed to want him to.

She was begging him with her eyes, and Cullen was sure that at any moment he would burst into flames. Walking out of this room tonight was going to kill him.

“You, my dear Autumn, are drunk.” he husked, his throat raw with his desire despite his best effort to sound lighthearted.

“Very true.” she laughed, and he felt her body quake with the action underneath him. She reached her hand up and touched his cheek, tenderly, and her eyes seemed to lose some of their smolder. He could see a hint of disappointment swimming in those green pools, but also a great deal of affection. “It's all right, Cullen. I understand.” she kissed his lips more gently this time. She seemed to have noted his hesitation, and he was grateful that she needed no further denial to respect that hesitation. He placed another quick kiss against her forehead before he went to lift himself off of her, but she held him tightly still. “Won't you stay though?” Confused, he looked down into her face, searching for what she meant. “It's so cold, and I would just like to have someone here tonight.” she blushed and looked flustered, embarrassed. He couldn’t say no under the onslaught of such foils.

“Very well.” he sighed. He sat up and took off the heavier parts of his armor and his shoes, setting them carefully on the floor next to her bed. He left the bulk of his clothing on, because he could sometimes still be a man with foresight, then pulled back the covers and climbed into her bed. It smelled like her, and he closed his eyes as he breathed it in, savoring the scent that he missed so much when she was gone. She scrambled under the blankets and nestled against him in the crook of his arm. She hummed briefly with approval, but was asleep within seconds. He kissed the top of her head and smiled, settling in so that he was comfortable enough to relax.

He lay awake for some time, cursing his own set of standards and wishing he could jump in an ice cold lake. He was also happy, however. Extraordinarily content to have her sleeping next to him, even if it was like torture to his wild imagination. Having her there felt _right_ , like it always should have been that way. Eventually Cullen drifted off to sleep, and for the first time since arriving at Skyhold he did not have any nightmares.

 


	31. The Troops Stand Ready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we arrive at Adamant.

_Leliana,_

_The troops stand ready. The siege equipment arrived and has been prepped._

_Our people are ready to march on Adamant at the Inquisitor's orders._

_-Cullen_

 

Cullen glanced at her, a small smile creeping across his face. She was currently astride her favorite mount, a horse she called Chestnut, and was talking animatedly with Hawke and Varric. She seemed almost carefree, laughing with her friends, the wind lifting her hair and whipping it around her face. She was a majestic site to behold, a proud leader and an accomplished woman. How was it that he had gotten lucky enough to belong to her?

She glanced at him and caught him staring at her. She lifted an eyebrow and gave him a knowing look. She said something to the others, and they waved her off as she brought her horse over to his, so that they were riding side by side.

“I trust you’re enjoying our trip so far?” he asked her. He certainly had. It had been a peaceful march thus far. They had taken a lesser known road through the Emerald Graves, a beautifully verdant area, and because of this path had not run into any opposition from anyone else, most forces choosing to avoid the area because of its smaller passages and heavy vegetation, and any smaller groups had been taken out by Leliana's people before they ever reached the main force. It was warmer in this area of Thedas, a refreshing change from the frigid cold they got in the mountains. Autumn had removed most of her armor layers and was in a sleeveless top, the sun turning her pale skin a light shade of pink. She was clearly enjoying the weather, at the very least.

She glanced around, looking at the lush foliage with a smile on her face. “It is beautiful here. We’ll have to return sometime when we aren't marching to war.” she sighed, a small noise that was almost unnoticeable, and for a brief moment he saw a weary sadness fall over her face. It was gone in an instant, replaced with a mischievous smile. “Perhaps then I can show you how to properly ride a horse, sirrah!”

“My lady, I’m Ferelden. We invented horseback riding!” he puffed out his chest with pride, patting his mount, which whinnied in approval. “I've been riding since before I could stand.”

She tilted her head back and laughed. “HA! So you think you can best me, then, is that it?” her eyes were full of challenge.

“Some noble girl from the Free Marches? There wouldn't even be any sport in it.” he quirked his eyebrow at her and smiled wickedly. He knew that would get to her, and he relished her reaction when he saw the verbal blow had landed. She narrowed her eyes at him and pointed to an old tree jutting up over the top of a hill.

“Fine, _Ferelden_ , first one to the oak over the hill wins. We shall see which one of us knows which way is forward!” She turned her horse toward the suggested path and shot a glare at him, daring him to refuse. He brought his horse to position next to hers, meeting her gaze. They both nodded, and then kicked their horses into top speed.

They were neck and neck, racing up the hill at a dizzying pace, the horses picking up their excitement, the green all around them blurring as they sped past. He was pulling ahead, gaining slightly as they approached the top of the hill. His pulse drummed with the thrill, seeing victory, the old tree, almost in full view. He would enjoy gloating about this for weeks.

Then he was over the crest and he could see the ditch between the top of the hill and the tree that neither of them had seen from other side. Triumph turning into panic in a split second, he yanked on his horses reins just as the beast noticed their dual peril and tried its best to stop their trajectory. Dust flew up from the hooves of the horse as it skidded to a halt, just a few feet before the trench. Unfortunately for Cullen, who had been unprepared for such an abrupt stop, he lost his grip on the saddle and flew forward, landing heavily on his back in the bushes at the bottom of the ditch. He saw stars for a moment, his lungs searching for air that wasn't there anymore, and he started to cough profusely. He heard someone skid down the wall of the ditch and land beside him, far more gracefully than he had managed to.

Autumn's hands were on him, one on his chest one on his cheek. He looked up and saw so much worry in her face.

“Cullen, I'm so sorry! This is all my fault! Are you okay?” she was patting him down, trying to ascertain if he was still in one piece. He coughed out a weak laugh, his lungs sore.

“I guess we answered that question.” he mumbled.

The smile returned to her face and she leaned in and kissed him deeply. He could feel the branches of the bushes pulling at his hair and sticking into his spine, but at the moment he didn’t care. He reached his arm around her neck, pulling her into him, and she climbed on top of him, her legs straddling his middle, and dove into the kiss, making a soft moaning sound as she did.

Their pleasant moment was interrupted by a slow clapping from above them. Autumn let go of his lips to glance behind her, and they could both see a crowd of people standing at the top of the ditch, Dorian there clapping loudly, gradually increasing tempo. Laughing, Hawke joined him, and before they knew it the entire audience was clapping and cheering. Cullen wished the ditch would open up and swallow them whole, it was perfectly mortifying.

Autumn, however, seem unfazed, and waved at the crowd before grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him in for another kiss, this one obviously for show. He could hardly object, however, as her lips parted for him and her breath quickened. She pulled back, keeping her face close to his, and the crowd above was going wild, hoots and whistles being added to the applause.

“Try not to scare me like that again.”she murmured, and patted his chest before clambering off of him. She offered him a hand and he took it, and together they managed to get out of the ditch and back up to their horses. Cullen's mount seemed to be perturbed by the whole thing, snorting impatiently. They rejoined the ranks, and the procession continued, albeit with quite a lot more snickering than there had been before.

***

A lot of people were supposed to be there that weren’t. There were too many to count, too many to imagine. The Inquisition had been built out of nothing and been knocked back down, and all of the people that had died in those moments were not here to push through the next battle.

Faren looked at the stony bricks of Adamant and remembered those people. He didn’t know all their names, but he could remember their countless faces. He could remember Bria and Roland. He could remember the faces of the scouting party that had been slaughtered by rogue wardens. He could remember the faces of wardens that had fought against whatever was corrupting them, only to be struck down by their peers.

It had taken him a long time, but he realized that the light in the world didn’t come to people. He had to make it, if he wanted to see it. He had to fight back against the shadows and demand that they let by the light, that they step aside so that the dawn could arrive.

He marched with the other scouts, with the soldiers and their allies, and they followed their path towards the fortress. He was done hiding from the darkness, done letting it rule him. He would follow his comrades into the fortress, and he would fight that darkness until it knew his name, and feared it.

***

She stood on the hill and focused on keeping her face a mask of brave determination as she watched her people surge forward. The forces of the Inquisition let out a thunderous cry as they launched into the battle, the air full of courage and devotion rather than fear. Her people believed in her, believed in their Maker to deliver them through this victorious. The ladders were thrown against the walls of the fort and the soldiers ascended, the sound of metal clashing against metal ringing out as they reached the top. On the ground, the sappers were brought to bear against the gates, the fist shaped implements of war knocking, pounding on the door of the warden's home, demanding they let the Inquisition in. Demanding they let her in to clean up the mess that they had made.

“There, he's through. Inquisitor, go, now!” Leliana shouted at her from her vantage point higher on the hill.

She needed no further urging. Her team was racing down the hill, winding through the ranks of soldiers not yet in Adamant, feet pounding into the ground in time to the rhythm in her chest. They reached the shattered gate, climbing over the wreckage to invade the stronghold. Everywhere they went cheers went up, the soldiers seeing their Herald and taking heart, brimming with pride to see her and follow. She was a leader who dove into the battle, who shed blood alongside them. The warrior and force of will akin to that of the holy woman whose name she bore.

Cullen was waiting for them inside the gates, shouting commands to his men and women.

“Inquisitor!” his voice was stern, commanding. They weren't alone, weren't the breathless couple in the dusty library. In this moment they were leaders, soldiers, two people in charge of hundreds. In this moment she was the Inquisitor and he was the Commander. “We got you through, the rest is up to you. We'll cover your advance as best we can.”

“Don't take any risks, Commander. I want my people alive at the end of this.” she ordered.

Screams from above distracted them for a moment. Frustration clouded Cullen's eyes and he swore.

“There's too much opposition on the battlements. The troops can't get a foothold up there.”

“I'm on it.” she said, grinning widely at him. He stepped forward and they clasped hands, bringing them up between their chests in a soldiers embrace. It was not the kiss she wanted to give him, not a gentle caress or a sweet goodbye. It was a salute, a sign of respect between comrades and colleagues, but it still held all the passion that they needed to convey, still showed each other what neither had the time or ability to say in the moment.

“Stay safe.” he ordered her.

“You too.” she commanded. There were no requests, not in this moment. Just the demand that they both get their tasks accomplished and return to one another. The soldiers around them cheered at the exchange, once more something she did giving them courage to take to battle.

Then she let him go and took off into Adamant, knowing that for some of the people behind her hope would not be enough.

They got through the main courtyard and halfway to the battlements before they ran into the first set of demons, spurned forward by wardens and attacking ferociously. The first kill was painful. Autumn saw the light leaving the warden's eyes and felt a pang of guilt. Striking down men and women that would be, should be, heroes at another time was not something she had ever wanted to do. After seeing a demon swipe at one of her men, however, she felt the shame just a little less. She grit her teeth, spun her blades, and took out those foolhardy enough to get in her way. She couldn't save these people, not in this moment, not in this way. Their only hope was if she got to Clarel and convinced her to end this madness.

It could have been moments or it could have been hours before they made it to the top of the battlements. She had a vague memory of running into Lilly, of begging her and Anders – who was currently Justice - to protect her men, not to worry about her, that she would be fine. So focused was she on cutting through the opposition and reaching her destination that she couldn't remember much beyond that, beyond each step she took being closer to where she needed to be.

The pride demon that greeted them roared, shaking the air around them and sending sparks into the air as it readied its deadly whips. It raised its arms and swung them in a wide arc, trying to sweep the harnessed lightning into them all at once. Autumn didn't know how everyone else fared, couldn't spare the attention, but when she leaped over the bolts she was grateful for the barrier supplied underneath her by one of the mages, keeping any residual energy from frying her nerves. She hit the ground running, turning her momentum into a charge. The demon saw her, screaming in agitation that its attack had failed. A large, scaled fist tried to come down on her, but she was faster, she was already skidding on her knees, ducking between its legs and sliding behind it, taking no harm other than skinned legs. She stood immediately, before the thing had time to recover, and threw herself in a repeating spin, driving the edge of her blades into the back of its legs over and over again, shredding the armored hide and cutting into vital muscles, driving the pride demon forward and crippling its movement. Her team pressed the advantage. Cassandra rammed into it from the side, her shield sending it toppling the rest of the way to the ground, and her dear mages combined their power to immolate it to death. Autumn had to cover her face and look away from the intensity of the heat, and when she turned back nothing was left but glowing ash.

She looked around, locking eyes with each member of her team to confirm what she needed to know: the battlements were clear, the troops could invade without opposition.

“Cassandra, Vivienne, Blackwall, Sera, stay here, make sure our men stay protected. Don't let the demons gain the ground back. The rest of you, with me. We need to have a talk with the Warden Commander.” she shouted above the din. Stern nods were her only answer, her team obeying her will without question, their wordless trust a second wind beneath her sails.

They raced forward, once again her feet slapping a staccato rhythm against the cobblestone, propelling her towards her next goal. Lilly, Stroud, and Anders met them just outside the inner courtyard.

“Something big is happening in there.” Lilly panted. “Justice says it reeks of blood magic.”

Autumn glanced at Justice, the blue glowing form of Anders. “Is he going to be okay?” she asked Lilly without breaking her sight away from the spirit-mage. Autumn didn't know nearly enough about wardens or possessed mages to be able to trust blindly.

“I keep Anders from being controlled. I am here to assist in your cause, Inquisitor.” Justice replied in his deep voice.

“If you are with me then you listen to me. You act only on my orders, understood?” she snapped at him. She would not give him room to doubt who was in charge among them.

“Understood.” he nodded.

“Alright kids, here goes nothing.” Autumn said before throwing open the door before them.

They were there with just enough time to watch Clarel, standing beside none other than Erimond, slit the throat of another warden, a rift opening up in the middle of the courtyard surrounded by warden mages casting into it. Autumn could feel solid evil washing out of the tear.

“Clarel, stop this madness!!” she cried, and every set of eyes turned to glare at her.

“You attack us for doing our duty, Inquisitor. You invade our home, kill our people...” Clarel stepped forward, her face stiff, a statue of rage and defiance.

“ _You're_ killing your own people!” she could hear anger shaking her voice, all the repressed anguish over being forced to kill wardens vibrating within her like a taught bowstring, ready to snap.

“Please, Clarel, listen to her. We don't want to fight you.” Stroud pleaded.

Erimond placed a greasy hand on the Warden Commander’s shoulder, frowning. “Clarel, the ritual. These people, they can never understand your sacrifice. They fear what must be done. Do not let them shake your resolve.”

“You resolve to work with Corypheus?” Autumn was all but snarling at them.

“Corypheus?” Clarel's eyebrows shot up, her anger being replaced with fear in an instant.

“Sweet Maker, they didn't know.” Lilly gasped. “They truly didn't know.”

“Corypheus has played you, Clarel. He put out the calling to scare you into..” she almost said into doing something _stupid_ , but stopped herself at the last second. She couldn't afford to offend her right now, she needed to convince her that this was wrong to save what few wardens were left. “Scare you right into Erimond's arms. He's enslaving your people, Clarel. The ritual binds them all to Corypheus, can't you see that?”

“Clarel, we are so close to achieving what we must! This demon, this one will be truly worthy of your command. With this power we could rid the threat of blights from Thedas forever!”

“Perhaps...” Clarel rubbed her forehead, confused, as though fighting to concentrate.

“She is influenced.” Justice stated flatly, quietly enough that only Autumn could hear him.

“I...I want to hear their evidence. Perhaps we should hear what they have to say.” Clarel said finally. Autumn let out a sigh of relief.

“I knew you would be too fucking stupid to accept great power when it was handed to you.” Erimond snarled. “Inquisitor! My master thought you might make an appearance tonight. He made sure to send a present for you, should you interfere. Corypheus will not suffer your meddling any longer!”

Erimond pounded his staff onto the ground, red sparks flying with each impact, and a familiar cry shook the walls of the fort. The archdemon soared above them, circling as it screamed into the night air.

“Fuck.” Autumn despaired as she watched the decaying creature land on the wall above them.

 


	32. Show Her Your Worth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Herald falls...again. Cullen and Solas have a lot of feelings about it.

“Fuck.” Cullen growled as he heard the cry of the dragon echoing off the stony walls of the fort. He didn't need to look up to know what that meant, didn't need to see its wings churning in the air to recognize that cry. He would recognize that sound for the rest of his life after what had happened at Haven.

He could feel rather than see his soldiers waver around him. The sound would bring about panic if he couldn't control them. Ignoring his own wildly spinning thoughts, he dispatched the demon looming in front of him with a quick twist of his blade. He stepped over the crumpling body and vaulted up half a flight of steps, so that he could be seen by all of those fighting around him..

“Stand strong, Inquisition! Your Inquisitor fights at your side! Show her your worth!” he cried, knowing that invoking her name would stir their resolve again.

He watched their eyes reignite as they returned to the battle, impassioned cries on their lips, and knew it had worked. He only wished the fear in his own heart was as easy to dispel.

***

Several things happened at once when the archdemon arrived. Clarel, snapping completely out of whatever control had been holding her sway, let out a cry of defiance that sounded like it tore her vocal chords. She raised shaking hands and shot lightning at Erimond, fury taking form to lick at his quailing form. Erimond took off running, taking a glancing blow from the spell but managing to keep to his flight unmolested, Clarel giving chase. The warden mages turned, demons in tow, on any other wardens in the area, the clash creating a din that made her ears hurt. The dragon opened its jaws and let loose a blast of deadly energy straight towards Autumn, who scrambled to get out of the way with the rest of her team.

She had one thing on her mind in the chaos. “Run! After Erimond!” she screamed. She got back to her feet, pushing the pain of her bruised body to the back of her mind. He would not be allowed to get away this time.

Her team needed no further urging, and they ran through the doorway that the Warden Commander and mage had disappeared through, racing to catch up with the pair. Autumn was eternally grateful to note that the archdemon seemed more intent on killing her than her troops, leaping into the air to shadow their pursuit as soon as they were out of the courtyard. They ran across the battlements, ducking behind pillars that only just shielded them from red fire and lyrium laced blasts. They climbed higher through the fortress, the stone walls reaching into the sky as they were battered by dragon, by booted feet, by magic and fire searing the air.

Clarel had pursued Erimond to the highest point in Adamant. When Autumn arrived, the man was backing away from Clarel slowly, nowhere left to run except straight off the battlement edge.

It had been a mistake to chase them, she realized too late. The archdemon, intent on its pursuit of her, had followed. Now that it saw the scene before it, the beast was no longer content to have one prey, it seemed. Once again several things seemed to happen at once, although Autumn noticed them all, as though her senses were heightened in the moment, picking up every detail so that it could later haunt her dreams.

The dragon snapped Clarel up in its jaws, alighting on the wall and shaking her back and forth like a rag doll, her neck snapping like brittle branches in the wind. Erimond, seeing his chance, took off in the opposite direction of the battlement edge, darting past the group as he launched a spell at Autumn. Solas screamed, an explosion of rage that shook Autumn to her core as he threw up a barrier to block the spell, and immediately surged after Erimond, his intent to catch him a razor sharp focus cutting through the confusion.

The archdemon tilted its head back, hinging its jaw further back to open it just enough to swallow Clarel whole. The poor woman was never even given a chance to scream. Having finished with her, the dragon turned its focus towards her team, which was now trapped in much the same way Erimond had been. With a crumbling battlement edge behind them and a decaying dragon in front of them, Autumn was starting to panic, her mind racing to come up with a plan to get them out of this situation. There was no time, however, as the archdemon tensed its haunches and lunged.

They ran. Halfway through a flight that would have turned into a killing blow for most of them, the dragon was struck with a massive ball of lightning, courtesy of Justice, sending it completely off balance. The dragon sailed over them, crashing into the battlement edge before tumbling over. For a moment, one blissful second, Autumn thought that they had done it, that they would come out of this unscathed.

Then the stonework beneath them gave way, the dragon's fall destabilizing the structure to the point of collapse. She tried to turn, tried to reverse her run and reach solid ground, but none of them were fast enough and soon they were all tumbling downward, the ground rising up to meet them at an alarming speed. Autumn screamed and held out her hand, as though she could break their fall with her will alone.

Then the ground was gone and the world didn't make much sense anymore.

***

For a moment the battlefield completely froze as the battlements above crumbled, as everyone present saw the figure of the Inquisitor, red hair shining like a beacon of beauty and battle, go tumbling off the edge.

In his head Cullen was screaming on his knees. In his head he was crying and cursing the Maker, raging against a god that would do such a thing. Inside he was a tempest of pain and fear and agony unlike any he had ever known.

Outwardly, as he was still a Commander, still had training ingrained so deeply within him that it was second nature enough to keep himself together, Cullen let out another battle cry that could have shaken the very foundation of the Golden City before it had been corrupted. Outwardly he surged forward with his soldiers and hacked at the demons with renewed zeal. Outwardly he looked every bit the vengeful crusader that he would become.

He would fight until he could not move any longer. He would throw himself into the battle until he had worn away his body, until there was nothing left in him that would cling to this world. Cullen would fight until every last person responsible had paid.

The love of his life had just been killed, and Cullen was going to follow her in a blaze of glory.

***

Solas turned, finished with the satisfying task of ending Erimond's existence with a vicious twist of his staff blade, the life finally leaving his charred corpse. He turned with exactly enough time to see Autumn's horrified face as the ground gave way beneath her feet, and everyone on the battlements tumbled into the abyss below.

Solas screamed. The sound tore itself out of his throat as he fell to his knees, the look of her evergreen eyes burned into his mind even as he closed his own to try and block out the horror before him. The guilt, the rage, the sheer pressure of the emotions within him kept him screaming as he balled his hands into fists, slamming them against the ground with enough force the crack the stone beneath them.

The pain within him was the pain of an eternity of being alone, an eternity of losing himself, of making mistakes. The pain of guilt and loss and the injustice of it all tearing at him, breaking him into little pieces. The shattered edges of his soul rubbed together, blinding him to anything but the desperate need to make everything stop, make everything go away until there was nothing left, nothing there to remind him of her face, her laugh, her smile.

The only person he had ever loved had just been killed, and Solas was going to destroy the world in retribution.

 


	33. Make Them Pay for It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Autumn didn't fall so far, and Cullen and Solas are still having a lot of feelings.

Cole was screaming when she came to. She sat up, looking around only long enough to know that they were no longer at Adamant before she pulled herself to her feet and ran to his side. He was sobbing, clutching his head, doubling over as he cried.

“No no no no no no no no I cannot be here again, not right, not like this, this isn't how it's supposed to be...”

“Shhh, Cole, it's okay.” she pulled him into a hug, cradling him as he collapsed against her.

“He is afraid. This should not be possible.” she turned as Justice spoke.

“Let me out, I got out I need to stay out!” Cole whimpered.

“Cole, sweetness, it's okay. We'll get you out, okay? I'll keep you safe.” she cooed, trying to sooth him while she got her bearings.

They were standing in the middle of a flat plain, small hillocks dipping down into puddles of water the only thing around them before it gave way to solid rock walls jutting up into the sky. The ground was made of a shimmering greenish stone, the rock walls black and iridescent in the odd light that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. Chunks of stone and random detritus – was that a table? - floated in the sky, unhindered by any sense of gravity or logic that she could discern. Trails of what looked like smoke swirled through the air, churning in one place only to disappear and form in another.

“Where are we?” Lilly's voice drifted over to her. Autumn took stock of who else was with her while Cole softly hiccuped against her chest, calmed but still clearly upset. Lilly, Stroud, Justice, Dorian, Varric, and Bull all stood looking around with trepidation. It was a relief to note that it was everyone that had been on the battlements with her.

“This is the Fade.” Justice told her.

“Did we die?” Stroud asked.

“No.” Justice answered flatly.

Lilly scratched the side of her soot stained head. “Then, how did we get here?”

“The Inquisitor.”

“Me? How did I....oh, oh no....the mark. I held out my hand as we fell, I must have opened a rift.” she clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Boss, I did not sign up to get dragged into the ass end of demon town.” Bull snapped, his grip on his battleaxe so tight his knuckles were white.

“Oh really? I'm sorry. Because this was clearly my intention the whole time, to fall off the battlements of Adamant into the _fade_. Just for you, Bull.” Autumn’s voice wavered dangerously as she tried to come to terms with what she had done.

“You know, I don't remember the fade ever looking like this before.” Dorian was looking around with a healthy dose of both fear and curiosity.

“That's probably because you weren't _physically_ in the fade.” Lilly said. “Justice, is this how it always looked for you?”

“No, Lilly.” Autumn was slightly surprised at the loving way the spirit spoke the other rogue’s name. “This realm belongs to a demon who shapes it thus. The areas I inhabited were shaped by others.”

“It feeds...feeds on darkness, fear, it takes from people their memories and keeps them to itself, feeding their mind's darkness to make more darkness.” Cole whispered.

“Compassion is correct. We are most likely dealing with a fear demon.” Justice affirmed.

“Good. I was just thinking my life was far too happy and safe lately.” Varric spoke up, Bianca drawn and cradled at the ready.

“So...how do we get back _out_ again?” Bull asked.

Autumn gently handed Cole off to Dorian, who kept one arm around the sniffling assassin while watching her carefully. She stepped forward, closed her eyes, focused all the energy and strength she had, and held out the hand with the mark.

Absolutely nothing happened. For a few seconds she stood there, trying to pull forth some kind of reaction, but the mark remained stubbornly inactive. Opening her eyes and dropping her hand, she turned back to everyone.

“Well, we aren't getting out the same way we came in.” she shrugged, trying to sound more positive than scared.

Dorian furrowed his brow. “What about the rift Clarel had opened? We were nearby, could we find our way out through there?”

“It is still open, I can feel its pull not far from here.” Justice told them.

“Well, it's better than sitting around waiting for the demons to find us.” Autumn dusted her hands off and started walking forward, towards an opening in the black rock walls surrounding them. The disgruntled band of survivors followed her, seven pairs of tense shoulders and shifty eyes.

They kept their pace slow and cautious. No one quite knew what to expect in this sort of situation. Autumn would have thought, three of them having actually been in the fade previously, that they would have had some inclination of what to do. Her memories were gone, however, Cole was scared out of his mind to be back, and Justice clearly didn't know anything about what a fear demon's lair would entail, so despite being the group of foremost experts on walking in the fade, they didn't have a clue of what to do. She wished Solas were with them. Maybe if he were he could help her activate her mark, or tell them where to go. Solas knew more about the fade than anybody else alive, probably, and she wished he hadn't run off to chase Erimond when he did. Of course, at least he was safe, so there was that. One less friend that she had to be concerned about.

The path that they were on led them through puddles of water, flat plains and small hills, winding around in so many different directions that if it had branched off anywhere it would have been easy to get lost. As it was there was only one way to go, the slightly downward slanting road they were on now. Eventually they turned a corner and could see the way decline a little sharper towards the mouth of a cave.

Dorian groaned. “Really? Even in the fucking fade we can't avoid caves?”

“At least there probably won't be any spiders.” Lilly quipped.

“Andraste's ass, Hawke, you're practically guaranteeing there will be spiders now.” Varric snapped.

“Quiet.” Autumn whispered when she noticed the figure standing in front of the cave. The others turned to see where her gaze rested and fell silent.

It was an old woman, dressed in the robes of the chantry, standing there waiting patiently as they approached.

“Divine Justinia?!” Lilly gasped when they got close enough to see the woman's face clearly enough to identify her.

“Greetings, Champion.” the woman nodded demurely.

“That's not possible.” Stroud whispered.

Just maintained his ineffable composure as he looked at the woman. “It is not.”

“Not who she says, not what it is, the same but different, half truths, mask of kindness...” Cole mumbled.

“Justice. Compassion. I see you keep diverse companions, Marked One.” Justinia said, speaking to Autumn.

Autumn took a hesitant step forward. “Are you....I mean, you're not her, are you?”

“What I am is not nearly as important as why I am here, and I do not have time to explain either to you in enough detail that you could understand.” The woman clasped her hands in front of her, smiling serenely.

“Don't wear a face that doesn't belong to you, demon.” Stroud snapped suddenly, earning him reproachful glares from both Lilly and Autumn.

“My apologies, Warden. I had thought it would be more comforting to you to appear this way.” she bowed low and started glowing, a beautiful golden light covering her skin until she was a being floating before them made entirely of light. “Please, we don't have much time. The Nightmare, the demon that controls this realm, will be looking for you soon.”

“Wait, what do we call you? What are you? I can't just blindly trust you.” Autumn was reluctant to decline the help, but knew full well that in the fade things might not be what they seemed.

“Perhaps I am Justinia, perhaps I once was, perhaps I simply share a piece of a soul with her. It does not matter what I am. You may call me Restoration.”

“Alright, Restoration. Do you know how we can get out of here?” Autumn kept her tone respectful, even as she worried at the riddles the being was throwing at them.

“You have forgotten what has happened to you, yes? Forgotten how the mark came to you. The Nightmare has stolen those memories from you, grows stronger off of them and others, taken from people at the behest of Corypheus. You must recover what you have lost, regain the memories taken from you, and leave this realm with them intact.”

She looked at Restoration with skepticism. “Why do I need my memories? I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm sure it's useful information, but wouldn't we be more likely to sneak out without being noticed if I didn't try to steal something back from the demon?”

“You will not be able to leave his lair while you are still missing them. He will use them to trap you here. They are the key.”

“Would the others be able to escape without me?”

“No!” several voices cried at once. She winced at their vehemence.

“Not in a million years, Hummingbird.” Varric warned her.

“A noble idea, but futile. They must leave with you, or never at all.” Restoration smiled at her, and the warmth there made it that much easier for Autumn to trust it – her, whatever she was.

“Well, then I guess I need to recover my memories. What do I do?”

“In the cavern before you will be minor terrors, minions to the Nightmare. Defeat them and you will gain pieces of yourself back. I will distract the Nightmare for as long as I can. He will be waiting for you on the other side of the cavern. Hurry, Marked One.” and then the spirit drifted away, disappearing into the air.

***

For a time it felt like Cullen was facing the hordes of demons still left in Adamant on his own, the soldiers of their army too far away to be of any use, too focused in his anguish to notice anything else. His strength was flagging. His muscles burned with overexertion, his armor rested heavily on his shoulders. He was wounded in several places, his fighting careless the longer it drew out, the more he felt the emptiness in him where her life used to be. He was ready for the killing blow when he saw it coming towards him. Was ready to welcome the sweet call of the Void where he could join her. It was almost a disappointment when the barrier went up, deflecting it. The demon immolated before him, and Cullen turned to face his savior in a moment of peace, the area temporarily free of foes.

“You were with her.” Cullen told Solas. It wasn't a question, nor an accusation. A simple statement of fact, the mirror to reality and nothing more.

“I could not save her.” he told him. It was not an admission, not an apology. It was just as much a simple statement of truth as Cullen's had been. Cullen looked into Solas’ eyes and saw the same emptiness that he felt reflected back at him.

***

Solas could see a pain that was intimately familiar within Cullen's eyes. Solas could see the same all encompassing darkness in the Commander's face, the very echo of Solas' own heart. In this moment they two men were twins, were two parts of the same whole. Two men missing the better half of their soul, torn away in the blink of an eye, the crumble of a stone.

The hideous whine of more corrupted spirits rose over the wall beside them, and Solas knew that the respite was over.

“Make them pay for it.” Solas told him as the demons set upon them once more.

They nodded to each other. Two men who now shared the same destiny, the same fate that they would grab with the tip of a sword and a surge from the fade. Solas stood, back to back with Cullen, ready to go down into the Void and drag the world with them.

 


	34. Silly Little Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Nightmare lives up to his name, and Cullen and Solas didn't have to die for their feelings.

Shadows danced around the cave as though caught in a flickering, pale flame, but there was no light source that she could see. The party stepped into the cascading darkness carefully, weapons drawn, every foot put forward coupled with a glance around. Each of them knew that whatever awaited them was not going to be pleasant.

“Ah, Inquisitor. Herald.” a voice boomed around them. “Autumn, dear thing. The silly little girl come to steal away the fear I so kindly took from your shoulders.”

“It's the demon.” Stroud said unnecessarily.

“Are you sure it wise to seek this path?” the voice continued, unperturbed. “I know all the things you fear, little girl. I could keep you safe from them, if you let me I could keep all the darkness out of your night.”

“Oh, you can fuck right off, buddy.” Autumn growled.

“Have it your way, little girl. Remember, when you face your darkest fears, that I offered you the world and you spurned it.”

Later she would learn what exactly they all saw in the horde of demons that rushed towards them. Dorian saw his father, wielding blood magic against them. Bull saw the corpses of the Chargers, shambling and ragged, eyes dead but for burning rage. Justice saw Lilly in the armor of a Templar, blade ready to run him through. Cole saw himself, his hands covered in the blood of innocents. Lilly saw Anders, the brand of tranquility on his forehead as he rushed at her. Varric saw his brother, flesh thin and wasted against his bones, lyrium mad and raving. Stroud saw his fellow wardens, infected with the blight and bent to the will of the darkspawn. Later she would find out they didn't see what she saw. It was a small comfort that they had not born witness to the same.

She nearly lost her mind at the sight. Everyone that she cared about, everyone she had ever loved was rushing towards her, crying for her blood, red lyrium pulsing in veins unnaturally stretched over the surface of their skin. She screamed as she had to strike down the demon with Dorian's face, another with Cassandra's. Zevran, whose sweet lips had been so gentle as he deflowered her, his face contorted in hatred before her. The little mage girl who had killed herself, now rushing forward to claw at her. She screamed as they all tried to take her life from her, screamed as she killed them all, over and over. They chanted the words of her father, the insults that he hurled at her whenever he struck her. _Useless. Bitch. Stupid, stupid girl. The little whore who would ruin their family, that would stain their name because she was too stupid to realize his graciousness. Just like her mother. She should be more like her cousin, who knew her place, who knew her worth, who knew that women were filthy whores good for only one thing._

When she thought she couldn't bear anymore, when she thought her heart was too broken from the images she had seen to be able to go on, that's when the Nightmare sent her Cullen. His sweet, perfect smirk contorted into something angry, something hateful as he glared at her. His bright golden eyes filled with a vengeful red haze, the lyrium dancing underneath his skin. His voice was distorted as he spoke to her, calling her whore, telling her that she was worthless, that her father should have sold her off to the first noble dumb enough to take the offer. That she was barely fuckable and should be glad that anyone ever touched her. That everything he had ever told her was a lie, that he thought she was disgusting, that he could never care for someone like her.

She was sobbing in hysterics when she drove her blade through his heart Despite everything the not-Cullen had said, despite what he looked like, despite the fact that he had just tried to kill her, Autumn still felt her heart shatter as she watched, for the second time in memory, the life leave his eyes.

She had no time to recover, no time to think before the cave exploded in light, a dancing glass of energy appearing before them, displaying the scene from the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Autumn watched again as she walked into the room, as Corypheus held Justinia captive. This time she could see the wardens using magic to hold her there, she could see the hatred in the Magister's eyes as he ordered her killed. She could see herself clearly, running to try and stop them, catching the orb in her hand, the mark embedding itself in her flesh. She watched herself swallowed into the fade with Justinia, watched them run from demons towards the rift, watched Justinia push her through just before being carried off to her death.

Not only could she see it happening before her, but now she could remember. Autumn could remember the day at the temple, remember it with a clarity that was all new to her. Remember that she was a scared noble girl who stumbled out of the fade by the grace of a woman who would have been far more worthy to be titled the Herald of Andraste. Autumn could clearly remember now that the only reason she was saddled with this fate was because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was never chosen, never worthy, never deserving of this mantle of faith placed upon her. She had always known such, but now she _knew_.

She didn't realize she was crying until Dorian had his arms wrapped around her and Cole was gently wiping the tears off of her cheeks.

“Ready for your orders, Boss.” Bull said firmly.

They were all looking at her, love written plainly on their faces. “Even after...didn't you all see...” she couldn't finish her thoughts, couldn't bring herself to say it. _Didn't you all see that I'm a lie._

“I saw you try to save the Divine.” Varric told her. “I saw you being the same selfless person that made you a great leader in the first place.”

“Do not question your worth. You have led us well.” Justice said, eliciting nods from all gathered. She looked around, astonished at the loyalty and devotion on every one of their faces.

Autumn wasted no more time on tears. She stood up, wiped her eyes, and straightened her spine. “Let's go kick this Nightmare's ass.” she said, her voice ringing strongly against the walls of the cavern. Seven determined grins met her request. It was time to end this.

***

Cullen now stood with several other soldiers in addition to Solas. They had fought their way through the throngs of demons to stand before the large rift in the center of Adamant. The rift that would remain open forever, the only person who could have closed it having been torn from the world.

He wiped a gloved hand across his brow, trying to clear away the blood gushing from a wound there. He only served to smear more gore around, whether his or that of something else he couldn't be sure. Solas stood panting beside him, a wound in his shoulder bleeding through his robes as he leaned heavily on his staff. The fire in his eyes had not dulled. The fire in Cullen's heart still burned fiercely.

Neither of them could last much longer. Cullen could feel his body starting to give out. He could feel Solas' mana nearly depleted. Soon Cullen would stumble and fall, never to get back up again. Soon Solas would cast his last spell, nothing left in his body to carry him on. The soldiers around them would be killed by the endless demons one way or another. The world would be swallowed behind them.

“Are you ready to die, Commander?” Solas asked him. No malice, no mirth. Just the question, bold and obvious.

“I'm already dead.” he told the elf.

Cullen closed his eyes and sent a prayer to a god he hated to make the end come swiftly.

***

Nightmare was waiting for them outside the cave. He stood tall, almost a mirror image of Corypheus but for the tentacles replacing the space his head would be. They could see the exit behind him, a shimmering rift that wavered before them. Autumn never thought she would be happy to see a tear in the veil until this moment.

“Did you enjoy your battle, little girl? Did you enjoy the pain you insisted on having?” the demon drawled, his voice the sound of satin against stone.

Autumn didn't dignify him with a response. She was done talking to demons, done dealing with this thing's mind games. She was done with the fade, with pain, with psychological torture. She was utterly done with all of it.

She dove forward, daggers flying, fueled with the rage of living through a thousand waking nightmares. Her team joined her, every one of the people there having good reason to tear down the demon where he stood. Nightmare was ready for them, had anticipated her reaction. He flitted around, passing through space in the blink of an eye, avoiding attacks as he summoned smaller terrors to occupy them. Autumn maintained her anger throughout, holding on to that thread of fury until she got her moment. She knew that she would, she knew that it was coming. She had only to be patient

The demon grew angry, grew reckless. She could tell its strength was waning, that it was running out of tricks to avoid taking damage. In a pique of desperation it rushed forward, grabbing her around the neck and lifting her into the air. For the barest fraction of a second Autumn struggled to breathe, a flash of another dark night and another dark monster immobilizing her before she bounced back. She kicked out, as high and hard as she could, her boot impacting directly with the tentacled mass on Nightmare's head. Using it as a launching point she lifted upwards, spinning in an airborne pirouette before bringing her daggers down, straight into its chest. The full force of her momentum and body weight behind her drove the blades in, all the way to the hilts. Nightmare screamed, crumpled, and dissolved before her.

“Go! Run through the rift!” she ordered her team, not wanting to wait one second to get out of there.

She saw four bodies make it through before the real Nightmare showed its face.

Looming before them, blocking their exit, was a massive pile of writhing tentacles and legs, a thousand eyes tucked in folds of gruesome skin staring out at them. They tried to make a run for the exit but a large, snaking appendage dropped down in their way. There was no way around it, no way to fight it. Autumn knew, with a sickening drop in her stomach, that the only way to get out was to make sure the thing had a distraction. To make sure it had its attention drawn away by one of them.

“Inquisitor. Get them out.” Justice told her, and the spirit stepped forward to offer himself up as the sacrifice. Lilly screamed and tried to dive for him, but Autumn grabbed her around the waist, holding her back.

“ _NO!_ Justice, don't you dare, don't you _dare_ take him from me you son of a bitch!” her voice was loud and raw, spearing through the air and cutting into the hearts of the three who heard it.

“Lilly. Live on for us.” The spirit turned around, holding a hand out and caressing Lilly's cheek for a moment. It was heartbreaking to see, to actually be able to feel Lilly falling apart as she watched the man she loved prepare to sacrifice himself. The look in Justice eyes was full of adoration, full of love, and he looked down on her for the last time, saying one last, sorrowful goodbye.

It would have been tragic, had Stroud not knocked Justice on the back of the head with the butt of his blade. Justice fell forward, the blue glow fading from him and leaving just Anders' unconscious form behind.

“Stroud...” Autumn choked as Lilly dove forward to pick Anders up in her arms, sobbing weakly as she cradled her love.

“Don't judge the wardens too harshly, Inquisitor. They were only following orders. Tell Anders I'm sorry about the bump.” Stroud turned on the Nightmare before she could stop him. He swung at it, screaming defiance, drawing its attention, taking the opportunity of sacrifice away from the rest of them.

It worked like a charm. Nightmare became wholly absorbed in chasing Stroud for just long enough to allow the others to slip through the rift, Autumn and Lilly working together to carry Anders through.

She dropped out of the fade in the middle of Adamant's central courtyard, landing lightly on her feet. Demons were everywhere, swarming around the soldiers gamely trying to fend them off.

Autumn held up the hand with the mark and felt the energy around her react to it. She twisted her fist, feeling the magic pulse through her, obey her whim, snapping the rift closed and obliterating the demons left outside of it. She stared out at the men and women standing on the battlefield with a fierce determination. She was alive, she had made it through the nightmares.

***

The demons around him exploded in a shower of sparks, charging the air in a moment filled with a thousands glittering points of green light. For a moment Cullen stood there, blinking stupidly at the spot the demon had been, unable to think straight enough to comprehend what had happened. When Solas fell to his knees next to him, whispering something in elven, Cullen turned around to see what the mage was looking at that had changed his expression so.

The rift was gone. She was standing triumphantly in the place it had been, her red curls swaying in the wind, her eyes alight with the internal fire that drove her forward. She was covered in blood, in the gore of Maker only knew what, standing before them with her fist still clenched in the air. She looked like a fierce goddess of war, sent to punish those that would stand in the way of the righteous. She was terrifying, she was war and chaos, she was victory and sacrifice, fire and fury. She was breathtaking.

She looked around, meeting the eyes of many of the soldiers, Inquisition and warden, that had moments before been embroiled in a losing battle.

“Wardens!” she called out, her voice ringing against the battered stone around them, echoing in the hearts of those that heard her. “Your commander was misled. You have fallen prey to the machinations of Corypheus. You have committed crimes for which there is no forgiveness.” her eyes, flashing like steel in firelight, swept over everyone there, a crowd as silent as the dead. “Stroud sacrificed himself so that you might have redemption.” her gaze snapped to the nearest warden she saw. “I will honor that sacrifice. Will the wardens stand with the Inquisition?”

The man snapped to attention and saluted. She turned her head to another man.

“Will the wardens fight for their redemption?”

Several other wardens joined in the salute, a cry of assent bursting from their chests.

“Wardens of Orlais, you are welcomed as allies of the Inquisition. Stand with us against Corypheus. Stand with us and make him pay. Fight for what is right and regain your honor.”

Cheers went up from the crowd, Inquisition and warden soldiers crying out into the night, responding to the call of their leader.

_She's alive,_ Cullen thought, and was unable to think anything else before he slipped into darkness.

 


	35. About Damn Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Autumn and Cullen make a new rule, and then later test the sturdiness of everyone's favorite desk.

Cullen came back to awareness slowly, the fog lifting from his mind bit by bit even as his head was pounding, a dull ache attempting to draw him back under. He felt as though he was comprised mostly of bandages, and could feel the soft gauze restraining him in several places. Gingerly he opened his eyes, grateful that the light in the tent was dim so he wouldn't be blinded. He was resting in a cot tucked in the back of one of the large tents that the Inquisition had brought with them to Adamant, blankets strewn over him and pillows stacked behind him.

His heart fluttered in his chest when he noticed Autumn, curled up in a chair next to the cot, hair tucked behind her ear and nose in a book. She was clean now, no longer covered in battle, changed into a set of soft samite pants and a loose everknit wool top that hung off one of her shoulders, exposing a small bruise formed on her otherwise flawless flesh.

“I see our roles have reversed, my lady.” he said quietly, grimacing as his voice cracked, weak from disuse. How long had he been out? She jolted up, eyes widening in surprise for a moment before her expression contorted into something in between fury and joy. She snapped the book shut and came over to sit on the edge of his cot.

“What, exactly, was your plan out there, Cullen? You shouldn't have been anywhere near that rift in the condition you were in.” she crossed her arms, glaring at him.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her down to him, ignoring the pangs of protest that his wounds made. He kissed her soundly, wrapping an arm around her to hold her close. She let out a squeak of surprise before melting into him, placing her hands on the sides of his neck, lips wrapping around his own tenderly. He pulled back for air, which turned into a large sigh that he could not repress.

“I thought you were gone.” he told her, the fear and pain of his memories plain in his voice.

“I'm not going anywhere.” her voice was soft, the whisper of the wind through the grass on a calm day. Carefully she moved herself onto the cot, laying down beside him and curling up in the crook of his arm. He held her as close as he could without aggravating his wounds, his hand resting against the small of her back. The warmth from her body was a steady reassurance, a reminder that he had not lost everything that he held dear.

“New rule.” she spoke as her fingers painted invisible patterns against his chest. “No giving up.”

“No giving up.” he repeated, knowing exactly what she was asking without her having to explain any further. She was asking him to never give in to despair again, to never let the hope die within himself. He had almost killed himself because he thought she was gone. His inability to hold out hope that he would see her again had almost made him make the biggest mistake of his life, had almost killed him so that when she returned she would be met with only a corpse. It was a lesson that he would remember. He should have learned it before, with all she had been through, with all the world had put her through, she had always come out the other side. They would have to trust each other, believe in each other. He would have to always, always keep the hope alive that she would come back to him, no matter what.

Cullen wouldn't give up again.

***

_Rivaini, Broody, Daisy,_

_I hope all is still well with you. I spoke with a friend, says he might have some room for you in Denerim. Might be safer for you there than out on the sea. Let me know when you can be there, I'll pass the date on to him._

_H. and A. are both here with me. Staying for a short while before they head out to research some things. Disturbing shit, as always. We all had some close calls recently, but nobody stopped breathing, so there's that. Wish I could explain more, Daisy you'd find it very interesting. It'd probably just creep the rest of you out though._

_Curly knows about the ship now. He's started playing cards again, I think he's gonna try to win it off you one of these days. You might wanna be careful though, he's got a little rogue in his corner that might just help him out. She's got more luck than any of us ever had, that's for sure._

_H., A., and Curly all say hello and send their love. And no, Curly isn't trying to kill anybody and doesn't seem to be mad anymore. The story behind that is perfect but I won't waste it writing to you in code. You'll just have to wait. Curly sends his congratulations on the nuptials._

_Stay safe and stay in contact._

_Love,_

_V._

 

***

Cullen didn't get to see much of her after they arrived back at Skyhold. Between settling the wardens in, reorganizing the troops, and the various missions that called for her attention they were both swamped. He couldn’t find the time to seek Autumn out, and she couldn't get away to come and see him. Which is why he was so surprised and delighted to see her standing in the back of his office, smiling at him as he debriefed a group of soldiers with the final instructions for the evening. She must have slipped in quietly without him noticing. He faltered in his speech as their eyes met, then quickly finished what he was saying and dismissed them all, rushing everyone out of his office to have a much needed moment alone with her. It had been far, far too long.

After everyone had left he closed the door, locking the latch and leaning against it with a weary sigh. He was exhausted from everything that had happened over the last string of days. Autumn, however, looked radiant - as always.

“Wishing we were somewhere else?” she drawled, her arms folded across her chest as she leaned against the door next to him.

He laughed, “If only we had the time. A nice ditch in the Emerald Graves, perhaps?” he quirked his eyebrow at her and was rewarded with her heartfelt laugh. “With everything going on it feels like the work never ends.”

“I'm sure they'll let us sleep when we're dead.” she giggled. “What _do_ you plan to do when this is all over, anyway?” she asked as they both walked across the room towards his desk. He set down the reports that he was holding and they let out a small puff of air as they landed, sending a few other papers scattering across the desk's chaotic surface. Organization had not exactly been a priority lately.

“To be honest, until recently I hadn't given it much thought. I'm not used to having so many...possibilities.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. Before, his only focus had been to get through all the wars and hopefully live to see the other side. That had changed from the moment she had fallen out of the fade, from the moment he watched her walk over that ridge and into his life. She changed just about everything, from what he wanted out of his life right down to the man that he felt he was. She changed the way he thought about the world in the most fundamental, wonderful way. The only thing that he could say with any certainty was that he would never want to move on from her, would never want to stop being with her.

“What do you mean?” she leaned against the edge of his desk, her head tilting to the side and sending her crimson curls falling outward playfully.

“I haven't wanted to share my life with anyone else before...” he reached his hand up to cup her face, caressing her cheek and marveling again that she was there, with him, still alive. Her beautiful green eyes widened at him.

“I don't know what to say...” her voice was barely audible.

“Say you feel the same.” he begged, a tremor of fear shaking in his chest. He wondered if he would always have that hesitation, that uncertainty, that worry that she was just too good for him, that it was all too good to be true.

“Cullen!” she scolded him, grabbing his hands and twining her fingers through his. “Do you really have to ask?” her eyes were full of warmth for him, that same look of adoration that he had envied between Anders and Hawke for so many years. His heart felt like it skipped several beats as he basked in the glow of her love.

“I suppose not.” he chuckled, and then he was leaning into her for a kiss, desperate for her affection after these long, busy days. She scooted back, trying to sit on the desk and he heard a crystalline shatter. She gasped, realizing that she had knocked a glass bottle onto the floor. She looked back at him, shock on her face, and he could see the apology starting to form on her lips.

He smiled at her and all his reservations were gone, his hesitation and worry fading, and he hurriedly swept the rest of the things off his desk onto the floor. She laughed musically as he pushed her back and climbed on top of her, leaning into her for a deep, passionate kiss. She made noises of pleasure in the back of her throat as he pressed against her, her legs spread so that she was straddling him. She wrapped her arms around him and he chuckled into her mouth as he felt her tug feebly at the straps to his armor.

He lifted his head, bracing his arms on either side of her face and grinning down at her.

She gave him an exasperated sigh. “Why do you have to wear a thousand layers of armor?” she gave up on trying to undo the strap, indignation flashing in her eyes over her apparent defeat. He moved off of her and began to take it off himself, eying her with desire as he did. She watched him intently, her cheeks flushed, her breathing fast and heavy. Her hair fell over the side of her face, half covering one eye in a look that made his muscles spasm in response. Maker, she was gorgeous.

He took everything off and tossed it aside until he was only in his light undershirt and loose fitting pants. He leaned back over the desk, planting a deep kiss on her mouth as he reached for the top button of her shirt. He undid them slowly, one by one, kissing her passionately with each new iteration. He made sure to take his time, to give her time to protest if she needed to, just in case this wasn't what she wanted. He finally finished unbuttoning all the way down and slid his hands beneath the cloth, gliding them across the smooth skin of her stomach. He felt her shiver at his touch, and she sighed heavily, her stomach lifting and falling with the heady breath. It was the first time he touched her bare skin there, and the feel of it was exquisite, like running his fingers through fine silk. He slipped his hands up, brushing past her breasts and up to her shoulders, causing the shirt to slip off and fall behind her. She disentangled her arms from it and quickly pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it haphazardly onto the floor as her eyes remained locked on his. He pressed himself against her, their skin meeting for the first time, sending tingles all over his body. He cupped her breasts, kissing her anew, and squeezed gently as he ran his thumb over her nipples, feeling them harden and respond to his touch. She moaned loudly, the sound driving him wild. He might have finally found a sound that he enjoyed more than her laugh.

He moved his hands back down her body, bringing them to the front of her pants to undo the clasps there, loosening them and slipping his palms underneath the waistband. He pulled her hips toward him, so that she was sitting on the very edge of the desk again and he was standing against her. She immediately wrapped her legs around him. He could feel himself pressing into her and he pulsed with need and desire.

He gently pulled the rest of her clothes off, kissing her neck and applying gentle caresses wherever his hands roamed across her body. He had imagined doing this to her for so long, but even in his wildest dreams it had not felt so amazing. Her body was radiating heat, dragging him into her passion with every sigh, every moan. She took her hands and loosened the tie still holding his own pants on, and they dropped unceremoniously onto the floor. He pushed her back onto the desk, stepping out of his discarded clothes and climbing up on top of her. Her legs wrapped themselves around him, and he could feel her wet and searching for him. He pressed himself against her, gently flexing against the outside, taunting them both with the sensation of being so close without following through. He could smell her, waves of dark mystique filling his nose, sending his mind reeling with want.

“Cullen...” she moaned piteously in his ear, and his restraint was gone. He plunged into her, one long, smooth motion, feeling her wrap tightly around him, hearing her cry out ecstatically. He needed this, needed her, needed to be part of her.

For a second his mind was blank, reeling with the utter perfection of their bodies melding together, connecting on a level he never thought was possible before. As he began to move inside her, slowly at first, it was like nothing that he had ever known, no encounter, no touch even coming close to comparing to this moment. He thrust in and out of her, feeling her muscles contract around him, squeezing him tighter and tighter. She was crying out with pleasure now, arching her back under him, rocking her hips to meet his rhythm. He let go of any worries that he had, any reservations, and gave her everything that he was, feverishly grasping her to him, kissing her fiercely as they moved together.

She cried out, pure pleasure spilling from her lips, and then she was moaning his name in his ear over and over again, panting with exertion, arms clinging to his back. She brought her hands up and twined them into the back of his hair, pulling his mouth down to hers, moaning with desperate fervor as she approached her climax.

He went over the edge the same time she did, her muscles clenching around him his complete undoing, crying out each others names into the dimly lit office. After, he stayed there, laying on top of her, while she panted into his ear. He could have stayed in the moment forever.

“About damn time.”she whispered, practically purring with contentment.

He lifted himself up and looked into her eyes, which were shining with happiness. “My lady, you sound like you may be accusing me of being a tease.” he smirked at her.

“Do I?” she said as he rose off of her, letting his eyes devour her exposed body. “Maybe if you stopped making me wait so long, I wouldn't need to make such accusations.” she grinned wickedly at him and jumped off the desk, her supple breasts bouncing as she did. Walking towards the ladder that went up to his bed, showing him her exposed bottom, she turned her head to peek over her shoulder seductively at him. “Don't leave me waiting again.” she warned, and began climbing, making sure to sway her hips with every step. He watched her hungrily until she disappeared above the opening, and then followed up afterward, sweeping her into his arms and into the bed before she could make it there herself.

He took her again, just as passionately as before, her response just as ardent. She reached climax three times this time (to his immense gratification) before they finished together on the fourth, afterward both collapsing in a heap of exhaustion on his mattress. Cold air filtered in from the holes in the ceiling above them, and he reached over and pulled the blanket over them with a last lingering look at her naked form.

She curved herself against him, letting him wrap his arms around her, and threw one leg over his own. Her body was still warm against his, and he sighed contentedly.

“I love you, you know that, right?” she murmured, glancing up at him with adoring eyes. He smiled down at her, knowing that he had never heard anything more wonderful than that phrase.

“I love you too.” he kissed her again.

Sleep came easy for both of them this night, and as Cullen drifted off, for once not concerned about nightmares, he felt like he had finally become a whole person. That somehow, against all odds, even after all that he had been through, he had found the one thing that completed him. Even better, in this moment, he felt like he knew that she felt the same. If nothing else in this world was sure, nothing else guaranteed, Cullen knew he and Autumn would love each other until they drew their last breaths.

And that was enough to make the world seem like it had hope after all.

 


	36. Flaming Scourge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everything is great and nothing could possibly go wrong in the next chapter.

_Commander,_

_We've found an area of great interest in Emrpise du Lion. Scouts report it looks like the main source of the enemy's red lyrium supplies._

_Heavy Venatori presence, substantial force of red templar. Considerable threat to the local inhabitants._

_Also, fucking cold._

_Awaiting your orders._

_-Captain Rylen_

_**_

_Cullen,_

_There is evidence Samson spends a great deal of time leading from Sahrnia. I would suggest having Autumn look for anything useful about him while she is there._

_-Leliana_

***

She giggled as he wrapped his arms around her waist, yanking her back down into the bed.

“Cullen, if you make me late to leave again Cassandra might actually come up here and kill you.” she admonished, even as she let him roll over on top of her, trapping her half dressed form beneath him.

“Cassandra will do nothing more than make an exasperated sigh and stomp around the training yard again.” he kissed her, claiming her lips again, selfishly trying to keep her all to himself for just a while longer. Most of their mornings were spent in this way while she was in Skyhold, rolling around in one of their beds, one of them complaining loudly about the need to be separated from the other again. He couldn't decide if he loved the breathless laughter of the mornings more or less than the impossibly perfect pleasures that encompassed the nights before them. Perhaps they were equally wonderful, in their own way.

“She's going to exasperatedly sigh herself to death one of these days.”

“Would I get to keep you all to myself then?” he was trailing his kisses down her neck, hands working to unbutton her already halfway undone shirt. She playfully swatted them away.

“Mmm, but then who will slay all of those dangerous practice dummies? They'd run rampant.”

He laughed, letting her extricate herself. “Very well, my lady. Maker knows we can't let the dummies get out of hand.” He got out of bed, grabbing his trousers and pulling them on as he padded towards the ladder. He didn't bother with his shirt or boots yet. He wanted to grab the reports and letters that he needed to show her and get that out of the way before she left. He could dress once she was gone, as he had already made her late enough. He could see the sun starting to rise over the mountains through the small window in his office, which would put her at least half an hour past the appointed meeting time of the rest of party.

“So, I do have something you need to see before you go.” he called up to her, grabbing the letters. He was nervous about bringing them up to her. It wasn't that he had been keeping them a secret, per se, but he had definitely not tried very hard to bring them to her attention, either. A lie of omission. Which he knew very well wasn't much better than an outright lie, but it was too late to go back in time and tell her about it at the proper time.

“Oh? I thought you showed me that enough times last night to satisfy even your appetite, Commander.” she poked her head over the opening so she could see his reaction, grinning maliciously before disappearing again.

He cleared his throat. “I would gladly show you _that_ again, but as you so helpfully pointed out a moment ago, you are already running late.” he heard her laugh filter down towards him. Maker, would he never tire of hearing that sound?

A moment later she slid down his ladder, effortlessly bouncing on her feet when she hit the ground, fully dressed at last.

“Yes, sir Cullen?” she strut towards him, her voice low and sultry, and for a moment Cullen forgot everything he had been planning on saying, visions of her cheeks flushed underneath him the night before playing through his head. She smirked, catching his expression and knowing that she had accomplished just what she had wanted. “You are a filthy man, dear heart.”

He growled and grabbed her, pulling her into him again. “You are impossible.” he murmured into her neck, peppering her with kisses. After a moment he released her, purposely stepping back and holding the letters in front of him, a thin paper barrier against further temptation. “I know you are going to be occupied already in Sahrnia, but I wanted to know if you would mind looking into something for me, as a personal mission.”

He handed her the letters. She glanced down, looking at the short messages and the report from Leliana attached, her brows furrowing. “When did you get these?”

“The first one came shortly after we arrived at Skyhold, the other just before you murdered the high dragon.” he watched her face carefully, trying to determine exactly how angry she would be.

“And the reason you didn't show them to me earlier?” her tone was very carefully flat, but he saw the nearly imperceptible stiffening of her spine.

“I...” he paused, trying to search for words that would explain his hesitance without angering her further.

“Before you finish that sentence, might I take a moment to remind you: No lies, no secrets, and definitely no deflecting.” her words were ice now. Cullen swallowed. So much for avoiding her ire.

“Honestly, I thought it would be better if you didn't know, that it didn't matter enough to trouble anyone. The first one just seemed like he was trying to get in my head somehow. Then after the second one showed up I knew I would have to tell you, but I never really felt like I got an opportunity.” he rubbed the back of his neck, as though he could rub away her disappointment.

“I take it you know this Samson?”

“He roomed with me, way, way back in Kirkwall, before I fell in with Hawke and everyone. He was kicked out of the order, became a lyrium junkie, I don't even remember if I saw him after that. And before you ask, I have no idea why he might be singling me out like this.”

She sighed heavily, her expression seeming to soften marginally. “You know, you're lucky you're good in bed, or I would be far, far angrier at you than I am.”

He tried to turn his laugh into a cough at the stern look she gave him. “I'm...uh...sorry?” he shrugged helplessly.

She shook her head, but the tension in her shoulders dissipated, and she relaxed. “Okay, sirrah. Why show me now?”

“Other than the aforementioned amazing sex clouding my judgment?” he ducked the slap aimed at his head, taking it in the shoulder while they both chuckled.

“Deflection.” she warned.

“Samson is supposed to spend a lot of time at the quarry, according to Leliana. I wanted you to see if there was anything there that we could use to track him down.”

She nodded, handing the letters back to him. “I'm on it.” she gave him a cheeky salute, and he rolled his eyes at her.

He pulled her into his arms again, kissing her fiercely before pulling back, enjoying the fact that her breath had quickened and her pupils dilated. “Be sure to stay safe, my love.” he kissed her again, tenderly, trying to paint the feeling onto his lips to last until her return. No matter how many times he had to say goodbye to her when she went off on one mission or another, he could never quite get past the sting of her leaving.

“I promise.” she grinned, then danced out of his grasp and out the door, heading to join what was sure to be a very grumpy group of people who had been waiting in the chill dawn air for her arrival.

***

“Is there literally nowhere in the south that is even remotely hospitable?” Dorian managed around his clattering teeth. Even bundled as they were in the warmest coats the Inquisition could requisition, Emprise du Lion was still freezing. The cold didn't even seem natural, or even inanimate. It was like the chill was alive, sinking into their bones like the teeth of some vicious animal. How Bull _still_ managed to trudge around in nothing more than warm pants and a scarf she would never understand.

“Sparkler, you’re a fire mage. Can't you warm us all up somehow?” Varric puffed.

“I could immolate us all, but I suspect that's a tad warmer than you'd prefer.”

“I'm beginning to think that wouldn't be so bad.” Autumn’s teeth chattered around her words. She felt like she might never actually feel warm again. “You know, I think when we get back I am going to have Dagna work on some warmth enchanted clothing.”

“Maker's balls why didn't we think of that earlier.” Varric slapped his forehead.

“You know what they say about hindsight.” Bull added.

Cassandra slashed a hand through the air behind her, her eyes scanning the path ahead of them. “Quiet. We're getting close.”

They were coming around the corner of one of the stony, snow covered outcroppings that were everywhere in the area. The ruins of what once must have been a small town, probably where the miners lived while working, scattered around them. Moldy wooden slats were sticking out of weather worn plaster, debris crumbling into the snow. It was a sad sight, to say the least.

Beyond the dismal town Autumn could see the gates to the mine, a structure that looked fairly new and hastily erected. The party crouched just out of sight, surveying the area. Three red templars patrolled the top of the gate, two stood on either side of the entrance, and Autumn would be willing to hazard a guess that at least three or four were nearby, just inside. That was a fair number of red templars. She had five people with her, and although most of her people were worth at least two opponents even on their worst day, she hesitated to run in blindly to attack this particular foe. The men were enhanced by the corrupted lyrium, and could have a frightening amount of strength and endurance. Not to mention they fought with a complete lack of fear and compassion.

“What are you thinking, Autumn?” Cassandra knelt down next to her, keeping her sharp grey eyes on the men at the gate. Autumn could practically feel the wheels of tactical calculation turning away in her head.

“That this would go a lot smoother with a distraction.”

“Agreed.”

“We should set the Seeker on fire, like you do all the time with those flasks. I would be _very_ distracted by her fiery form bearing down on me, if I were them.” Varric quipped. Cassandra made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat, rolling her eyes.

“Actually, that's not a bad idea.” Autumn mulled over the plan beginning to take form in her head.

Cassandra’s eyebrows shot up near her hairline. “You...you can't be serious.”

“No, listen. I could coat you in the alchemical formula I use, then Dorian can light it and maintain the fire from a distance. Solas can pop a barrier around you, you charge in screaming bloody murder, we sneak around in the confusion, taking them out one by one before the rest of them know what's happening.”

“Oh, I like this plan.” Bull was already rubbing his hands together.

Cassandra scowled at him. “ _You_ would. Why aren't we lighting the Qunari on fire? Would he not make a more imposing sight?”

“I prefer my nipples _un_ -cauterized, thank you.” he replied primly.

“I would be too tempted to actually let him burn.” Dorian added with a sneer. The two men glared daggers at each other for a moment while everyone else present rolled their eyes.

“Sorry, Cass, the shirtless wonder here wouldn't make a good candidate.” Autumn shrugged, trying desperately to suppress her grin at her friend's anger.

“This is your doing, Varric.” she scowled. “You will pay for this, make no mistake.”

“Just add it to the long list of things you already want to kill me for, Seeker.” he gave her a cheeky grin.

“Ugh. Fine, let's get this over with then.”

The team set to work covering her in the chemical Autumn used for her own elemental enhancements, taking great care to make sure they coated everything, applying it liberally to her armor, her under-armor, and her skin just to be safe. Her clothes weren't designed to handle it like Autumn's were, but hopefully they would hold together long enough to complete stunt. When they were finished they stepped back, nodded to one another, and set the plan in motion.

Autumn had seen a lot of terrifying things in her life. She'd seen atrocities too terrible to recount in the light of day, nightmares fueled by the worst demons the fade could summon, countless deaths of good and bad people, an ancient darkspawn magister holding her life in his hands. None of that, she felt, could compare to the absolute scourge that was Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast, lit on fire, screaming at the top of her lungs, bursting down the snow covered road towards the petrified red templars. With every step of her charge the snow melted beneath her feet, the moisture evaporating as it came in contact with the flame and creating a trail of steam and fog behind her. She was like a ghost, a ghoul of the angriest warrior that had ever lived, summoned from the depths of the Void to rain devastation on all who stood before her. The templars _panicked_. They shouted, some of them dropping their weapons, and turned to flee before she could reach them, running inside the gate to try and reach safety. Autumn had never seen anyone as scared as she had seen those men.

The plan was nearly ruined by the debilitating fits of giggles her team fell prey to at the sight, but somehow they managed to take them all out before Dorian extinguished Cassandra and they had a moment to regroup.

“That was amazing!” Cassandra cried, her voice unexpectedly jubilant. “I've never felt so...so... _fierce_.”

There was no force on Thedas that could have held back the group's laughter at that point. They dissolved into mirth, Bull actually falling over and rolling around in the snow while he held his sides.

“Oh, Maker, please tell me we get to do that again.” Dorian said when he could finally breathe, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

“It _was_ remarkable effective.” Solas grinned, even his calm demeanor broken in the face of the celebrant group.

“Oh, anytime. I didn't think warriors could _be_ tempests, but I think I might be the first one to try.” Cassandra positively beamed.

“Oh, man, this is the best raid ever. You should shout something about bringing the wrath of the Maker next time.” Autumn told her.

Varric chuckled. “Oh, they'll soil their armor for sure!”

“Come on, lets go get the rest of them.” Autumn added, and they began the process of reapplying the chemicals to start all over.

The raid of Sahrnia Quarry proceeded, each group of templars falling in a literal blaze of glory, Cassandra putting the fear of the Maker into them before they were taken down by the others in the team. They very nearly scared a group of prisoners to death with their stunt, but as soon as they realized the Flaming Scourge, as they were calling her, was on their side, they calmed down. They collected refugees as they went, protecting them while they cleared out the area, decimating the templar’s forces without taking hardly any damage themselves. When the sun started to sink low in the sky, they had already cleared out most of the quarry and collected a large stack of correspondence that Autumn could pour over to search for information about Samson. The last of the forces had holed up in a cavern deeper in the mine, likely to stay there for the time being, trapped and unable to leave without facing Autumn's team. Rather than pursue them, she decided to camp for the night, giving everyone the rest they needed, tending to the refugees before they could send them back to the town.

Everyone had high spirits as they settled in for the night, the days victories looking to continue feeling great long into the dark hours before sunrise.

 


	37. I Will Save Your Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which peril and feelings.

The room spun whenever he tried to open his eyes, sweat made his skin sticky, his clothes and the blankets felt suffocating but he couldn't move to take them off, could only lay there shivering, shutting his eyes to try and block out the endless, nauseating pain that felt like it came from everywhere at once.

Cullen couldn't remember if he had woken up like this or if he had always been like this, shuddering and clinging to his fragile existence like the last leaf on a branch in winter, the winds of withdrawal desperately trying to whip him away. He could hardly breathe he shook so hard, teeth clacking together painfully, skull rattling with a headache threatening to tear him in two.

“Your pain is loud.” Cole's voice drifted to him through the agony. Cullen tried to nod but couldn't, couldn't do anything but groan. He was going to die. This was going to be his end.

At least he had lived for awhile under his own conscience. At least he had broken away from the templar's corruption, seen right from wrong before the end. At least he had loved and been loved. He couldn't regret those things. The only thing that he could regret was what this would do to her, that he would not be able to say goodbye. Not being able to send her that final letter. The hardest part of dying was leaving her.

He opened his eyes, his vision swimming. Cole was kneeling next to the bed, the letter grasped in his bony fingers. “I can make her get the letter, but you shouldn't die.”

Sweet boy, of course he could hear his scattered thoughts. Were it only a simple matter of will. Lyrium would kill him, his body couldn't live without it. His blood had run dry and his bones were cracking, his soul laid barren as it drank in the empty air, trying to fill the void that the sweet blue song had left behind. There was nothing more he could do, no more fight left in him. He had lost.

Cole's hand was pleasantly cool as it rested against his forehead. “No giving up.” Cole ordered, and then he was gone.

No giving up. It was a rule. He couldn't break the rules, not after everything.

Groaning, Cullen steeled himself against his body's attempts to shut down, trying to hold on just a little longer.

***

He told the Nightingale before he left, sent her to him so he wouldn't be alone. His bones were brittle with the pain of the magic leaving them.

He had the letter. He held it close, kept it safe, precious cargo, the words of a man on the edge of the world, the words she needed to see, needed to know so she could heal his hurt.

He traveled as fast as he could. Faster than he should have. He was too much to move this way anymore, too real, too present in the world to slip in and out of the fade like a ghost, but he did it. He moved through the pain it brought because there wasn't enough time and if he was going to save him he had to move _fast_.

Cole raced against the clock, tick ticking away the heartbeats as the blue dropped to the bottom of the well.

***

She carried the stack of papers and sat next to the fire, basking in the warmth even though it did little to fend of the cold that had swallowed the night. They had thought the day had been miserable, but when the sun had left the sky bereft the stars could do nothing but watch them shiver, and no matter how many fires they built the ice seeped into their bones.

Still, it had been a good day. They had accomplished much, and they were ahead of schedule. Now all she had to do was determine whether or not they had found what they needed on Samson. She grimaced as she looked at the folder that held all the evidence they had accumulated, not looking forward to taking a peek into the mind of the man that had sent those letters to Cullen.

“Enjoying a bit of light reading, I see.” Dorian was perched on a rocky outcropping just above her, his chin propped up on his hands as he gazed down at her.

She wrinkled her nose. “Diary of a madman. Care to join me?” she waggled the papers, sending them flapping back and forth across the air.

“Hm. I think I’ve read that one, back in Tevinter. I’ll pass.” He hopped of the rock, settling in next to her with a languid stretch. “Haven’t you had enough excitement for one day? Tell me, love, when does the work of the Inquisitor end?”

She winked at him. “About the time the Commander removes my armor.”

“Oh ho! You minx, I think your work is just beginning when that happens!” he tilted his head to the side, smoothing his mustaches. “You know, I believe you swore to me to provide details. Details that I have most certainly not received.”

“I have never made such a promise!” she screwed up her mouth as she tried to determine if she actually had or not.

“I believe you were around three cups in when you starting declaring that if Cullen ever ‘ _made it happen’_ then you wouldn’t be able to stop telling us about it.” He used his fingers to make air quotes around the words attributed to her name.

“Ha! What I really meant was I would never been on time for morning travel plans ever again. That counts, right?”

He shoved her shoulder, sending her toppling into the snow as he stood. “You are a terrible tease and I hate you. Now, I think I’ll leave you to your exciting homework. Varric and I are going to toss ice cubes into Bull’s ridiculous pants and take bets on how many we can land before he notices.”

She laughed, returning to her set and dusting the snow off of her pants. “One of these days he’s going to deck you right across that beautiful mouth, and I’m not going to do a thing to stop it.”

Dorian waved as he sauntered away. “I’m too pretty to be decked!”

She shook her head, wondering how long those two were going to dance around the truth. Although she was hardly one to talk, all things considered. She sighed, opening the folder and pulling out the materials, reminding herself that the sooner she found what she needed the sooner she could go home.

Autumn had several missives written by Samson himself spread out before her when she heard the scream. Her head snapped up sharply, reaching for her daggers next to her as her eyes scanned for the source of the disturbance. She was stunned to see Cole hurrying towards her, the scream having come from a refugee that he had apparently frightened with one of his distinguishing abrupt appearances. Autumn stood, taking in the urgent look on his face with a sinking feeling in her gut.

“Cole, what are you doing here? I thought you were going to stay and help Blackwall and Sera with their -”

“I brought the letter. He meant it for wings, but I carried it anyways.” Cole thrust an envelope at her with a shaking hand, a pained expression on his face. She realized he was sweating and panting, highly uncharacteristic of the boy who was usually impervious to exhaustion.

Worry settling itself into her chest, worse than the layers of ice caked into the stone around her. Autumn tore open the letter and read it, tears pricking the corners of her eyes with every word.

 

_Autumn,_

_As I write this I'm watching you sleep. I have always been fascinated with the way you sleep, the way you always look so calm and unguarded. I used to think it was like a little window into who you really were, the only way that I would ever get to see you so vulnerable. It was hard to believe someone so strong, so enduring as you are, could ever look so small, so beautifully calm._

_To be able to sit here and watch you rest now, resting next to me, it is a greater privilege than I deserve. You are the only perfect thing in a completely broken world, and I cannot imagine what I could have possibly done to deserve your attentions. I thank the Maker everyday that you exist, that you found me, that you let me love you._

_You are absolutely everything to me. I want you to know that. I have never loved anyone else the way I love you. I always thought that this kind of feeling, this love that feels like it consumes you, like it takes over everything, I always thought that was for other people. I used to sit across the table and watch Anders and Hawke, and the way they looked at each other...I was so jealous, so sure that I would never have anything like that. Then you stumbled out of the fade and into my life, and I felt everything change._

_I want nothing more than to spend forever next to you, spend forever trying to show you exactly how much you mean to me. I wish I could spend every minute of our lives telling you how much I love you. If you're reading this, then I was not able to fulfill that wish. If you're reading this, then I had to leave you, but I hope you know that it wasn't by choice._

_I know my choices, my desire to stop taking lyrium, might kill me. I know you know that as well, and I love you all the more for being able to support me despite that. I am so sorry that my past sins, my past as a templar, is what is robbing us of our future together._

_I did my very best to hold on for you. To hold on to you. I hope that you can move on without me and live a happy life. I love you, Autumn Trevelyan, and I only want you to be as happy as you can._

_I'll be waiting for you, on the other side. Wherever that may be. My only wish is that you don't rush to join me, that you live a long, wonderful life. But I will still be waiting. I will always wait for you._

_I will always love you._

_Yours forever,_

_Cullen Stanton Rutherford_

 

Her hands were shaking so hard she nearly tore the paper as she sank to her knees. She couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, couldn't _think_.

“Autumn? Autumn, what ails you?!” Solas was at her side, worry filling his dark blue eyes.

“It isn't true, not yet!” Cole cried. “The magic in the bones is still there, but it's fading. Pain, shuddering, burning, shaking to death in the cold bed, skin on fire have to hang on, can't give up, can't give up....” he shook his head. “He will die if we cannot help him.”

“He's alive?!” she gasped.

“Maker's breath Cole, you could have led with that.” Dorian said, tears in his own eyes after reading part of the letter over her shoulder.

“The lyrium, it must be almost completely out of his system by now.” Solas said quietly.

Autumn grasped the elf's hands. “You have to help him! Please, Solas...you have to...he can't..I can’t...” she could feel her chest heaving with the effort not to sob.

“Lethallan, shh.” He cupped her cheek, gazing at her sadly. “I will do all that I can, I promise. Do not despair.” he stood, turning to Cole. “Cole, can you speak to Justice through the fade? I will need Anders guidance in this. He has far more knowledge of the healing arts than I.” Cole nodded solemnly. “Dorian, that spell you have been researching, the one that slows time, is it ready to be tested?”

“Well, it doesn't slow time so much as speed up the person passing through it but...oh, um, I suppose if you're willing to try it I am.”

“Very well. Cassandra, might I borrow your mount? I believe it is the fastest of the ones we have at camp.”

“Take whatever you need.” Cassandra insisted.

“I should come with you, I should...” Autumn began wringing her hands, but he silenced her with a small shake of his head.

“No, lethallan, you must remain here. These people need you, and I can travel faster if I only carry Cole.”

“Solas, I can't...please.” tears streamed endless tracks down her face. He took her face in his hands, his soft palms on either side of her cheeks, planting a firm kiss on her forehead. “I can't lose him.” she choked out, barely able to force the words past her lips.

“I will save your heart, lethallan.” he promised her. Then he turned and raced to the horse, mounting it with Cole. Dorian cast the spell and they were off, fast enough to be a blur, racing back towards Skyhold. Autumn felt like her heart flew away with them.

 


	38. In My Arms Lies Eternity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I'm so sorry.

_Sister,_

_Help is on the way. Keep him alive._

_-Hummingbird_

The speed at which they rode was dizzying. Solas could see the cold, frozen countryside blurring past them, the familiar land distorting under the night sky. He could feel the ice in the air, freezing his breath and searing through his coat. He could feel the pulse of the magic helping them surge forward, racing to save the man she loved. He could feel her heartbeat, miles away by now, pounding as though he actually carried it with him.

He glanced up, into the dark sky, watching the stars turn into lines of light that soared overhead. In this moment he envied others in their abilities to send a prayer out into the air, to pray to whatever god brought them solace. As Solas raced forward to save his love's love, he wished there was some entity he could pass the reigns of fate to. He didn't want to be on this path any longer, didn't want to be the one guiding himself forward. He would like to have someone out there to blame, someone to relinquish control to. Solas, in this moment, would have liked to give up.

Instead he told the stars his sorrow, told the stars his promise to save him. He would save him, if only to save her, because he would do anything for her. Solas would tear down the heavens if it would bring a smile to her face. He whispered this to the stars, hating himself the entire time. He was grateful that the stars could not answer in return.

***

_Let my cries touch their hearts. Let mine be the last sacrifice._

***

Leliana watched as he thrashed against the restraints binding him to the bed. Vivienne paced the room, eyes glued to her shoes as they wore down the carpet in the Inquisitor's room. Sera sat silently next to the bed, reaching over to dab a soft cloth against his forehead every few minutes, wiping the sweat off his brow. Blackwall stood guard outside the door, keeping anyone from trying to come in, keeping out the curious eyes of those who had seen Cullen carried up the stairs.

Leliana merely watched. She watched all of them, watched the candle on the table burn lower, slowly marking the hours. She watched the man she had given a drink of water to in a broken circle tower writhe in pain, powerless to help. She watched as the people of Skyhold held silent vigil below, no one sleeping, no one working, everyone waiting. Waiting for the end to come for Commander Cullen Stanton Rutherford, survivor of Kinloch hold, defender of Kirkwall's mage rebellion, ex-templar, fearless leader of the Inquisition's forces, love to the Herald of Andraste.

As Leliana continued to watch she started to pray.

***

_Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls._

***

Anders stiffened in her arms, sitting up in their bedroll and knocking the covers askew.

“Love, what's wrong?” Lilly asked him, sleep dancing out of her grasp the instant his alarmed expression reached her eyes.

“It's Cullen.” he said, his eyes pained. She watched him conversing with Justice, saw the far off look in his eyes that he only got when conferring with the spirit. “It's the lyrium. They think he's dying.” he told her after a moment. Lilly clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to hold in the fear that hit her like an avalanche.

“Will he be alright? Should we turn back?”

Anders shook his head. “We'd never make it in time. The elven mage is going to him now. The spirit boy is speaking with Justice, who will speak with me, so we can provide what help we can.”

“Will they be able to save him?” she almost couldn't ask the question, couldn't imagine strong, sweet Cullen not in the world anymore.

“I don't know, Lilly. This hasn't ever been done before.” he shrugged.

Lilly sent a silent prayer to a god that had not once listened to her before. If anyone deserved a little divine intervention, it was Cullen.

***

_From these emerald waters doth life begin anew._

***

Cole could hear so many voices, all over the place, and they were all speaking his name, all whispering it over and over. Cole let his own voice join them, let his own hurt blossom inside, let his own heart feel the pain and ache that tore apart so many people who waited to know if it would end or begin. Cole cried as he clung to Solas, because he didn't want to lose another friend.

Cole didn't know who the Maker was, but he wished with all his heart that someone or something out there would watch over Cullen.

***

_Come to me, my child, and I shall embrace you._

***

Through the pain, through the nightmares, through the searing agony within his skull, Cullen could feel his life slipping away. Little pieces of nothing that fall through the cracks of the world, fell through his fingers as he tried to hold on.

No giving up.

There was a voice in his head repeating that over and over again, but it was getting drowned out by the fever and the sharp little knives embedded in his bones. Everything cracked, everything broke, everything burned. Everything faded away and fell back and faded again.

No giving up.

The little pieces of nothing were getting harder to feel now.

***

_In my arms lies eternity._

 


	39. She Got Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things do not seem to be looking up for our heroes.

They followed her when she demanded they move on the red templar left in the quarry. No one questioned the decision, no one objected. They picked up their weapons and squared their shoulders and stood by her side. No one wanted to be there a minute longer than they had to, not anymore.

The hole the vermin were hiding in was dark, lightless but for the ominous glow of red lyrium corroding the walls, pulsing under skin, peeking through the cracks in silver armor. They used no theatrics this time, no ruse to scare the men before their death rose up to meet them. Autumn let the fury in her eyes do that, the whisper of her blade into their flesh. Autumn would let them feel every ounce of pain that she wouldn't show.

There were more of them than they had thought. It was not a clean fight, as the others had been. Blood misted into the air as it swung off blades, theirs and hers, everyone bleeding as they worked deeper into the shaft, deeper into the lair of the foul men who let their addiction corrupt them. The addiction that might kill her other half. The addiction that had been used against countless people who had only wanted to help, who had grown up proud to be shackled and cowed, pushed into decisions that benefited no one.

Autumn crushed the lyrium underfoot as she tore into her enemies wondering if it would ever be enough to assuage her fears for her love.

***

Solas dispelled the horse as they rode into Skyhold, slowing it to a normal pace before dismounting and walking briskly to the keep, Cole skittering at his heels. He was mildly surprised to see the sheer number of people milling about at this hour, watching him with grim curiosity.

“They wait, they listen, they think his name.” Cole told him.

“Where is he, Cole?” Solas asked the spirit, knowing that the boy could find him faster than he would be able to through more traditional means.

“In her room.” Cole offered, and Solas knew immediately whose room he meant. Of course they would take him there, he thought. He made his way up the stairs and into the great hall, which was equally full of sad faced soldiers milling around, unsure of what they should be doing. Solas ignored them and they did not try to stop him, although he could feel their eyes on his back as he reached the door to her chambers and opened it.

“I have no idea how you did it so fast, mage, but thank the Maker you're here.” Blackwall's gruff voice greeted him as he worked his way up the stairs.

“What is his condition?”

“Not good. Madame de Fer will have more information for you, she's inside with the others.” Solas nodded to him in thanks, slipping past and into her room.

Leliana, Vivienne, and even Sera, looked completely despondent. Solas sucked in a breath as he saw Cullen's form strapped to the bed. His pallor was not good, the usual color to his skin missing, dark purple circles under his eyes. His hair was plastered to his head, slick with sweat, a mass of unruly dark golden curls made tangled by his thrashing. His wrists were bruised underneath the restraints tied around them, his body covered in sweat as he lay there shuddering uncontrollably. He was not conscious and mumbling incessantly, speaking to the nightmares in his mind.

“Cole, ask Justice if a restoration spell would help.” Solas needed to know where to start, what would work. Anders knew more about this type of aid than he did, and it would be better were the man here in his stead, but Solas would have to do his very best to keep the Commander alive. For her.

For a moment Cole stood staring off into space, conversing with Justice though a connection in the fade. His eyes cleared suddenly, and he looked at Solas. “Restoration spell, yes, but not too strong, the thrashing can make him hurt himself. Brew a tea of elfroot, embrium, and crystal grace, and make him drink two cups, then contact again for further instructions.” Cole recited, his voice taking on the cadence and patterns similar to those of Justice.

“Vivienne, do you have those ingredients on hand?” he asked the enchanter. She was far more adept at alchemy than he was, and more likely to stock a full cabinet of supplies.

“Yes, my dear, I believe I do. I won't be a moment.” she swept out of the room to gather what they needed.

“He wants to know his condition.” Cole said.

Solas strode to the bedside, examining Cullen as best he could. He placed a hand on his cheek, noting his high temperature, the skin damp and shivering. He opened an eyelid and noticed the blown pupils. Cullen didn't respond to any of it.

“How long has he been down like this?” Solas asked Leliana.

“Since Cole brought me to him. It probably got this bad sometime during the night yesterday.”

“Cole, please tell Justice that he has a high fever, is unresponsive, pupils dilated. Judging by his chapped lips and the length of time he has been suffering, I would say he is severely dehydrated. The tremors are fairly severe, and don't seem to let up.”

Cole nodded and tilted his head. “He wants to know if his eyes are rolling around if you open them.”

Solas lifted an eyelid again. The pupil was still dilated, but the eyes weren't rolling. “No, they aren't.” Surely that had to be a good sign?

Another pause while the chain of silent conversation continued. “He says the worst symptoms will be seizures, and that we should prepare him for that. Restraints, pillows behind his head, something to press between his teeth. The...when the last of the lyrium is leaving they will start, and will be the most deadly thing to deal with.”

Sera shot up to gather the things the spirit listed as Vivienne came back into the room with the herbs and a large teapot.

“What ratio of the herbs do we need for the tea, my dear?” she asked the room. Solas looked to Cole.

“Three bells of crystal grace, two leaves of elfroot, one stem of elfroot, three whole embrium flowers, crushed before brewing and take care not to waste any of the sap, all of it must go into the tea.” Cole instructed, his tone sounding so like Anders it would have been amusing under other, less dire circumstances.

“Thank you, my dear.” Vivienne said, surprising Solas with her sincerity. He didn't think he had ever seen her be pleasant to the boy. Then again, he had not spent much time with the enchanter, as she preferred to assist the Inquisition in various ways around Skyhold, while Solas took his place in the field, at Autumn’s side. There was a great deal about her that might surprise him, if he cared to look.

The night continued on in much the same fashion, Solas asking questions, which were then passed along via Cole, eventual answers being relayed back to Solas. Cullen was propped up on pillows, fed the tea, and healed with several types of restorative spells. He seemed to be doing better until the seizing finally started. Solas had to have Sera climb onto the bed behind him and hold his head steady while he did his best to cast healing magic over the man.

After what seemed like hours his body quieted, the shaking stopped, and he fell into a deep, undisturbed slumber.

Cole's face split into a large grin. “He says that's the worst of it, and if he still breathes he will live.” the spirit nodded as though he agreed. “I don't hear the song in his blood anymore. His bones are quiet.”

“Cole, make sure to tell our friends that he is breathing, the fever is gone, and he is doing well.” Solas sagged against the wall, his mana depleted after the night's expenditures. “And thank them for their assistance.”

Cole was still smiling as he relayed the message to their long distance attendants.

When his face fell, his gaze became locked and unfocused, his eyes so wide that all his joy spilled out and the gaping pupils refilled with fear.

“Blood, so much blood, Maker it's everywhere how can a person even have so many holes, she is crushed, she is dying...” Cole sank to his knees, clamping his hands over his ears as he shook his head back and forth violently. When he stopped, he looked at Solas, pale blue gaze stricken with panic. “She got hurt.”

 


	40. Trying to Keep the Pieces of his Best Friend Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Autumn is in peril. Again.

“Andraste's ass, Sparkler, work _faster_.” Varric growled at the mage, stomping across the cavern with every step of his frantic pacing, the metal of his boots scraping and echoing around them. Dorian didn't even bother sparing him a glance, focusing on his work instead, trying his damnedest to do the absolutely impossible.

Dorian was by no means a healer. He had always been terrible at trying to mend the body of other living things. His connection to the fade was one that made him far more adept at ripping people asunder, setting flesh ablaze, bringing living nightmares into the mind's eye. Trying to knit skin back together seemed an alien process to him, overly complicated and vexing.

And yet they had somehow found themselves in the precarious situation that required that he shut up, buckle down, and focus all of his might on trying to keep the dire wounds of his dear friend from killing her.

The behemoth had come out of the shadows, as if springing from the very walls of the cave to attack them. In fact, Dorian was positive that was how none of them had noticed it, so much had it looked like just another lyrium growth flickering in the darkness. It wasn't until it moved, until it swung its hulking arm into Autumn, that they realized it was alive. She had been hit dead center, shoved against the wall, sharp points of lyrium burying straight through her as she was crushed against the hard, frozen rock. When the thing moved its arm away she had slid down to the floor, leaving a dark crimson trail behind her, slumping onto the ground lifelessly. Cassandra and Bull had been so incensed that they had shattered the behemoth in record time, breaking it into harmless pieces that scattered all over the ground, crunching underfoot as they all ran to her side.

She had been breathing, but only just. Puncture wounds everywhere, so many organs damaged, several bones snapped in multiple places, near catastrophic blood loss...and Dorian was the only mage they had.

So they had forced a couple of potions down her throat, he had rolled up his sleeves, and set to the task of trying to keep her alive until...they didn't know. They could send a message, but who knew if it would get there with any expediency, and they had no idea how long it would take someone to reach them. Without a spell to speed up the process, Skyhold was an eleven day ride from where they were trapped. They had no hope of help, and if all they had to rely on was his healing skills, then they had not much hope at all.

Bull was also pacing irritably behind him while he tried to work, tried to will her battered body to hold on. Cassandra was praying over her, lips moving in time with some part of the chant or other. Varric seemed to feel his best contribution was to whine incessantly at the mage while he tried to work.

The magic flowed from the fade through him, into her body. His was not a healing magic, so the force seemed confused as he tried to command it to keep her heart beating, to stitch together torn muscle and tendons. Dorian could feel his brow dripping with sweat under the strain, trying to force his hands to work a miracle. She was wounded so gravely even a proficient healer would be hard pressed to fix the mess, let alone him. But he was all that she had, and he would be damned if he was going to let her die on him.

“Sparkler, come _on_ already!” Varric again, his voice strained with worry and urgency.

“Will you shut up! Go do something useful and find a way to get word to Solas or Anders or somebody who can help.” Dorian snapped at him. “I can't fix this completely, the most I can do is get her to hang on until real help arrives.”

“How much time do we have?” Bull asked.

“Not a lot.” he told the Qunari ominously. “Not a lot at all.”

***

“Cole, what's happening?”Leliana asked the spirit-boy, striding across the room to look him in the eyes.

Solas felt like his heart had stopped in his chest, like all the warmth had drained from his body. Cold fingers clenched into fists, digging into the skin of his palms harshly, as though the pain could help distract him from the reality of what he knew Cole would say.

“She was hurt, Dorian is trying...too much blood, too many holes, not a healer, can't make the magic bend to my will, won't last, won't last...” Cole shook his head, shaking away the thoughts. He looked up, into the faces of those staring at him in horror, as though willing one of them to tell him what to do. “She's dying.” he said, begging them to take action, voice small and lost like a child's. Solas empathized with the feeling. He, too, felt at a loss. It seemed like every time he turned around she was in danger again. The one person that he would have liked to keep safe, the one soul that he cherished in all the world, because of him constantly thrust into peril.

“Can you get back to them? Magic her up like you did Jackboot here?” Sera asked, her voice shaking.

“We would never make it in time. We had to use a spell to arrive here as fast as we did, and Dorian is the only one that can cast it.” Solas could hear the lack of emotion in his voice, as though he had built an iron wall around himself at some point, letting nothing of his inner turmoil show through.

“My dear, where _is_ the possessed apostate?” Vivienne asked suddenly.

Cole looked at her, seeming to brighten with just the slightest bit of hope. He cocked his head, obviously checking in with Justice again. The others in the room held their collective breath and waited.

***

For the second time that evening Anders shot bolt upright in their bedroll, panic straining his already exhausted face. He swore violently.

“What is it? Did he relapse? Is he alright?” Lilly peppered him with the questions, praying again that Cullen wasn't dead, that he was still okay. She had paced enough this evening to wear a dusty path across the small cavern that they were sleeping in. The fire crackled merrily next to them, blissfully unaware of the tension occurring next to it and not very successful at driving away the frigid cold of this area of Orlais. They had barely been gone at all, and already she missed the warmth of a room and bed that had been offered at Skyhold.

“Not Cullen, it's Autumn. Cole says she got injured...” his eyes lost focus, going distant again. She waited impatiently for him to get the rest of the information from Justice, wishing not for the first time that she could communicate directly with the spirit without being asleep. “Maker's balls, he doesn't have a lot of information. I have a location, a vague sense of a lot of blood loss, and not much else. Come on love, we have to _move_.” he got up, throwing on his robes and rushing to gather their things.

“Are we close enough? Where are they?” she asked while she did her best to match his urgency, shoving things into packs at random.

“They're in the Sahrnia quarry. If we hurry we can get there...” he cocked his head, “In maybe two hours? Andraste's ass, I hope that's fast enough. All she has is Dorian and a couple of potions.”

“Fuck.” was all Lilly had to say as they loaded everything onto the horses.

They mounted and kicked the beasts into full gallop, both of them encouraging the animals to move faster than they ever had before.

***

Cassandra had abandoned the prayer and was now talking directly to Autumn's comatose form, gently brushing her curls out of her eyes, her normally beautiful hair full of blood and filthy snow and ice, matted together in harsh tangles. Dorian watched with only half his attention as he paused his magical ministrations, trying to rest and restore his strength before she got worse and he would be forced to start again.

“Just hang on, Autumn. I have faith in you, so just hang on. I have all the faith, remember? You have the magic mark and I have the faith. Well, I have faith now, so all you have to do is keep holding on.” the warrior's voice was a hoarse whisper as tears worked out of her eyes and down her sharp cheeks. It was unusual to see so much emotion out of the stoic woman, but then again Dorian couldn't be that surprised. Autumn did that to people. Without fail she knocked down the defenses of those around her and they had all let her in, let her take up space in their tattered, war torn hearts. Half the people that loved her had been convinced they would never be able to trust or love again, Dorian included. Somehow, by the sheer virtue of who she was, she had found a way to bring them all together.

Bull strode back into the cave. “We sent birds to everybody we could think of, Skyhold, Anders, the local village...Varric is staying outside in case anybody shows up so he can get them to us faster.” he announced.

“Is there anything we can do to help you, Dorian?” Cassandra gave him a look that was pleading with him to say yes, to give her something to do. She was a woman of action, a woman of purpose.

“Let's get her out of that armor, try to bandage her up a bit to keep more of her blood inside rather than out.” he told them grimly. “Perhaps the cold will help slow the blood flow, as well.”

“What's her status?” Bull asked as they started disrobing her, removing leather so soaked in blood that the original colors were unrecognizable.

“The wounds seem to reopen almost as fast as I can close them, she's getting feverish, I think there's red lyrium in her bloodstream but I can't be sure, and I can't do a fucking thing about it even if I was.” Dorian didn't mention that he was also exhausted, almost completely depleted of mana, and on the verge of an emotional breakdown from the strain of trying to keep the pieces of his best friend together.

“Here, this might help.” Bull said softly, handing him a lyrium potion.

“Thank you, Bull.” he gave the Qunari a soft, grateful smile before grimacing as he ripped out the cork and downed the vile substance. He was not a fan of using lyrium, particularly on this night. He had seen enough of the negative aspects of the ore to last a lifetime. Red lyrium ruining lives here, normal lyrium ruining poor templars everywhere. The stuff should be wiped off the face of the planet as far as he was concerned...but for now he would swallow it, because it would help him keep going, would help him keep her going.

Cassandra let out a gasp when she saw Autumn without her armor, her small frame diminished as she lay on the icy ground, bare from the waist up except for her breast band. Her pale skin was almost completely obliterated by bruises and cuts, several large wounds opening again and leaking blood in increasing rates. Not an inch of skin was left unmarked across her torso. Dark purple splotches covered her, the gashes were starting to swell, there was a rather large hole that went clean through her left shoulder. No matter how many times he tried to coax the flesh back together, the wounds would burst open again before he could repair the internal damage. She was losing too much blood, too fast.

“We don't have much longer.” Dorian said, kneeling down and summoning his magic again as Cassandra and Bull starting wrapping her in gauze.

Bull surprised them both when his voice lifted in a soft song, one of the ones Maryden sometimes sang in the tavern. For a moment they both just listened to the giant man's surprisingly mellow voice, then Cassandra joined in, a sweet harmony filling the space, replacing the sense of despair hanging in the atmosphere with one of hope. It was better than the choking silence, better than the fitful sounds of Autumn's hitching breath.

Dorian listened as he continued trying to hold on to the lifeline of his friend, tears in his eyes and a prayer on his lips. Perhaps the song could guide his magic until help arrived. He just hoped that they wouldn't be too late.

 


	41. No, No, No

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lilly and Anders are waylaid, and the clock keeps ticking.

“He is going. Justice says they are about two hours away.” Cole told the silent room. Solas resisted the urge to swear and instead outlet his frustration by pacing along the wall. He was exhausted, every muscle in his body complaining at the movement, but he couldn't sit still or he feared he might explode, might burst into a surge of anger and despair that could swallow them all.

“Can you still hear them?” Vivienne asked the spirit.

“I cannot hear her...but the others are...there! Loud and worried. Sad, lonely, hopeful, holding her together like bits and pieces of a broken toy, blood on my hands blood on the walls blood on the ground so much red...have to have faith, for her, for me, for all of us. The song isn't the chant but it makes it seem easier. Maker we cannot lose either of them.” Cole recited. “Cassandra is afraid.”

“Cole, can you listen to Dorian again?” Solas requested, all but leaping at the poor boy, who, to his credit, did not flinch. He needed to know how the healing was going, although judging by the Seeker's thoughts things were not progressing well. His fingernails dug into his palms again, tension coiling rigidly along his spine.

Cole tilted his head, his eyes staring off into the room without seeing anything in it. After a beat he shook his head, shoulders slumping. “Cassandra is too loud, I can only hear her right now.”

Fear was going to eat Solas alive. He felt as though the great maw of some giant beast had opened up and clenched its wicked teeth around his chest. What folly it was to leave her party without a healer, assuming that she would remain safe for one evening, assuming Cullen would be in the greater danger. Would Solas truly have to live in a world where her life had been traded for the Commander's? No one wanted that. No one had intended this. Then again, the road to the abyss was said to be paved with good intentions. Solas could attest to the truth of that saying very well indeed.

The room fell silent as they all waited, helpless to do anything to save their leader, their friend, their love. For the second time tonight the life of someone they all held dear was hanging in the balance, teetering on the edge of this world and the next. He glanced out the windows, glaring at the night sky accusingly, as though the stars he had already unburdened to were somehow responsible for this turn of events, mocking him in their glittering silence. Fate was cruel, and Solas was growing weary of bowing to its whims.

***

“Red Templars!” Anders screamed just before the force was upon them, riding out of the fog on horses that looked half dead, red lyrium thrumming in their veins as they carried their riders towards the pair of them.

“Andraste's fucking ass will this night just calm the fuck down?!” Lilly cried as she pulled at the reins of her mount, demanding it stop. It would be no use trying to outrun them if their horses were corrupted with lyrium. The things would be faster and stronger than any normal steed, and their own were already being pushed to the limits of their abilities. She dismounted as soon as it slowed, letting the horse gallop further along, away from the fighting area as she pulled her daggers from her back and turned to face the monsters.

This was not a new scenario for the pair of fugitives. Having been on the run long enough to have been in almost every battle stratagem imaginable had given them a system to approach anything that came at them. Just as Lilly's feet hit the ground, Anders' lightning tore through the templar's ranks, hitting the horses rather than the riders. The fell beasts screamed and buckled under the power of the spell, throwing the templars to the cold ground, snapping the neck of at least one of them and leaving the others on more even footing against Lilly, who would no longer have to worry about facing mounted opponents.

There were seven of them still able to stand and fight, heavily armed and now incredibly angry. She smirked at them as they stared her down, evaluating her before they made a move. Twirling her daggers in her hand she met each templar's eye, showing no fear, no hesitation.

Three of them broke off to go deal with Anders, leaving four men to face her. She grinned at them maliciously, a signal that she knew that they thought she was the greater threat. They wouldn't be wrong, necessarily. Anders was a powerful mage, not just a healer, and he could certainly hold his own in a fight, but Lilly....Lilly was fueled by the rage of a lifetime of things going horribly wrong for her, a lifetime of loss. Not just loss, but horrifically tragic, gruesome loss, maniacally unjust turns of fate that had left her with a need to focus on something other than her life. Lilly had turned to combat, turned all that grief into a steel edge of determination, which she used every time she drew her blades. She had used that edge against brigands, demons, bloodmages, dragons, and even the Void-sent Arishok in single combat, and that was just while she had been in Kirkwall. Lilly was by no means a small threat.

One of the men charged and the dance began. She ducked his stroke easily, spinning around and aiming one of her daggers at him. Her blow hit, hard. Not hard enough to cut through the tough shell of the silverite armor, but hard enough to send him stumbling forward, giving her enough time to parry the hit from another templar that was aimed at her back. She shoved him away, ducking under a third blow and rolling forward into the fourth man, hitting his knees with all her weight. She hear a sickening crunch as the bones buckled, bending in the wrong direction and sending him screaming into the snow. She rolled on the ground, tumbling away from another sword tip before she could launch back to her feet. For a moment the three men that were left hesitated, their comrade writhing uselessly on the ground. She spun her daggers in her hands again, letting the dragonbone blades flash dangerously in the silky starlight.

“What, scared? Did your darkspawn god never teach you how to fight little girls?” she purred, trying to taunt one of them forward. It worked, the one on the left growling and thrusting his sword forward forcefully. He missed by a good two feet as she ducked under it, driving her dagger up through the opening in his armor under his arm. She could feel the rush of air puff out of the wound as his lung deflated, saw the hiss of steam as his blood hit the cold snow. Men were so predictable.

Apparently not all men, however. She screamed as she felt a sword stab into her thigh from behind, sinking nearly the whole way through. She flung a dagger strike backwards, the blade clanging against metal and tossing her attacker back, drawing his sword out of her as he fell. She spun to face the two left, nearly losing her balance as she tried to put her weight on the injured leg. She shifted herself, balancing on the other limb while the wound made her shake, her body reacting to the shock and pain. It moved, however, so she wasn't crippled. Nothing that couldn't be repaired easily enough later, when they were out of the woods. She had strength enough still to take down the remaining two templars.

It was still a great relief when they went up in flames before her, immolated soundly by Anders, who had just finished dispatching his own group. He rushed towards her, kneeling in the snow to examine her wound, long fingers grasping gracefully around her thigh.

“Nope, don't even waste an ounce of mana.” she ordered, shuffling away from him and trying to bat his hands away.

He set his jaw, glaring up at her. “Lilly -”

“It's superficial and you know it. We need to get to Autumn, fix her, _then_ you can fuss over me. Just get me back on the horse.”

For a second she thought he might argue, but finally he nodded, standing and wrapping an arm around her to help her back to her mount.

“You know, I think I am going to have to have a word with Cullen. _His_ woman keeps getting _my_ woman hurt.” he quipped, giving the top of her head a quick kiss before hoisting her onto her horse.

Lilly snorted out a laugh, wincing as the movement jostled her just a bit too much. “Yeah, you let me know how _that_ conversation goes.” she rolled her eyes as he grinned at her before they settled down and urged the horses onward again.

They sped off into the night, each wondering exactly how much time that fight had wasted.

*******

The door opened and closed at the bottom of the steps leading from the room, jarring him out of his deep slumber. He was pleased to note that, for whatever reason, he did not have a headache. His body felt like it had dealt with the business end of a battering ram, but his mind was blissfully clear, his muscles blessedly stilled. He opened his eyes, blinking into the dim light of the room, trying to ascertain if he was dead or not.

He was surrounded by those of the inner circle of the Inquisition still left in Skyhold as he rested in Autumn's bed, what felt like a thousand pillows piled behind his head. He was surprised to see Solas there, pacing near the wall. Josephine had just entered the room, everyone's eyes snapping to her tensely, so no one had noticed that he had awoken.

“Sorry to disturb everyone, but I must speak with Sister Leliana.” she murmured, eyes downcast, a letter grasped in her tiny hands. Leliana walked over to her and took the proffered parchment, reading it over.

“Is the man insane?” Leliana asked her when she had finished, blue eyes flashing dangerously.

Josephine shrugged, wringing her hands now that she wasn't holding the paper. “He sent with this a copy of the contract...it has all been arranged and signed. I am not sure we have any authority to do anything about it without causing a political scandal.”

“Surely you don't intend to just let them take her?” Leliana demanded, her tone sharp.

“Of course not. If _she_ refuses to go, she will have our full support. I merely meant _we_ cannot do anything without her here.” the ambassador replied primly.

“Take who?” he croaked, making everyone jump.

“You're awake!” Josephine gasped, striding to the side of the bed with Leliana in tow.

“I think so. Unless I died, but I expect I would feel a great deal less beat up if that were the case.” He told them, attempting to sound amicable over the rasp in his voice, his comment making Blackwall and Sera chuckle. Cullen's eyes took in the letter Leliana was trying to discreetly fold and tuck away. She saw where his gaze went and sighed, rolling her eyes in resignation. Unfolding it again, she handed it to him without a word.

 

_My Dearest Daughter Autumn,_

_I was so relieved to hear you survived the chaos at the Conclave. I fully understand your failure to write to me. You must have been so broken up that it slipped your mind. I can, of course, forgive you of this transgression._

_I am so proud to hear of your appointment as Inquisitor. Regardless of this Inquisition's legitimacy, you must be so very honored to be elevated up so high. I am sure you will be happy to know it has already brought a great deal of fortuitous tidings to our family name, and does much to curry favor towards your name once again._

_Pleasantries aside, I am afraid my letter has a side of business to it that we must attend to. Your brother has managed to find a suitor that is worthy of your new status. We have already negotiated the terms, dear heart, so you need not worry your pretty little head about the details. It has been finalized._

_You will be pleased to know that he is on his way to Skyhold now, with a full retinue of guards, which of course are at the disposal of the Inquisition for as long as you are with them, until such time as you marry and can return home. Which I expect to be without delay. Surely you have had your fill at playing the savior and can hand off whatever minor responsibilities your office has to another, more qualified individual._

_I will eagerly await your return letter with your anticipated timeline._

_Your loving Father,_

_Aurthur Trevelyan III_

 

“The man knows I command an army, right?” Cullen said darkly after he had finished reading, the urge to tear the missive into pieces nearly overcoming him. The man had insulted his daughter several times over, and on top of that was sending her a would-be husband that Cullen was quite sure she hadn’t asked for. He had never hated someone after simply reading a letter before, but he supposed there had to be a first time for everything.

“I suspect, Commander, who and what you command had little effect on his dealings, considering he likely has no knowledge of your relationship with the Inquisitor.” Josephine smiled wanly at him. “Not many outside of our ranks do.”

“Either way, he is being awfully presumptuous. Does he really believe that he can cart off the leader of the Inquisition and we would just...allow it?” Leliana’s clipped voice was oozing disdain. He knew the spymaster would be just as agitated as him at the very idea of some man marching in to whisk Autumn away. Leliana would not let her favorite missive author go so lightly.

“He's a fool if he does.” Cullen replied, happy that his voice was regaining some of its normal timbre.

“Unfortunately he does have the authority to arrange a marriage for his daughter. Until such time as she declares her intentions, we must assume this is all in good faith.” Josephine sighed heavily, as though fully aware that she was about to be argued with.

“You know I'm not going to allow some...some...” he was having trouble finding words that weren't considerably more offensive than what the diplomat was comfortable with. “Arrogant, noble fool to flounce around Skyhold as though he has a right to her hand.” he told them, irritated beyond belief that this was even being considered.

Josephine shrugged helplessly. “We cannot turn him away until she asks us to.”

“I'll not pretend I have nothing with her for the sake of -”

“Perhaps you shouldn't. We can't send him away, we can't refuse hospitality, but we don't have to lie to the man either.” Leliana cut in. “Who knows, maybe he will wish to break the contract himself if he learns she is already involved, and we can avoid the entire spectacle.”

“And if he doesn't? What if he takes offense?” Josephine lifted her chin defiantly.

“Does any of this matter? Can we not get word back from her, have her tell her father to send this ignoramous away?” it made Cullen uneasy to note that the room had fallen deadly quiet after his question.

“I believe there is another matter that Cullen should be informed of.” Solas said, his voice heavy from his spot against the wall. It occurred to him at that moment that it was incredibly odd that Solas would be here but not Autumn. They had left together to the Emprise last that he had known, so how was it that the mage was here and she was missing?

No one in the room would meet his eyes, except for Solas and Cole. “What's happened?” he was dreading the answer, knowing that it was not, could not be anything good by the way everyone was reacting. The pall in the room became all too obvious, the stench of worry permeating everything.

“Autumn's been hurt.” the mage told him, and Cullen saw the worry in his eyes and knew that it must be very, very bad if Solas was affected so.

“Tell me.”

***

It was cold, wherever she was. She just wanted to get warm. It felt like something kept tugging at her, pulling at pieces of her skin, pulling at pieces of her mind until she felt like a shoddy sweater being unraveled in the darkness.

It was cold but she was burning. Something in her was on fire, scattered bits of molten pain swirling around in her blood, filling her senses with agony that did nothing to warm her but everything to singe away the parts that she was made of. Her mind was adrift in a sea of icy, burning waves, alternating misery that was too much to bear, too overpowering for her to find purchase in reality anymore.

It was easier to let go. Something was holding her back, wasn't it? Hadn't there been something that she was trying to hold on to? She could almost feel herself reaching out, invisible fingers grasping at the air, grasping for whatever it was that could pull her from this emptiness. Nothing was there, she couldn't remember if there ever had been. It was too cold to wonder. She was burning away too quickly to think about it. It wasn't important anymore. Whatever it was had been lost in this darkness long ago, had fallen through her shaking fingertips just as everything else had. She didn't have the strength to pull herself out again.

She started feeling warmer as she let go, giving into that subtle pull and sinking deeper into the abyss, oblivion rising up to meet her like the gentle waters of a warm bath, the mild medium to the extremes she was thrashed against until now. It was simple, it was easy, it was peaceful.

It felt like it was time.

“No, no, no I think her heart is giving out!”

 


	42. I Think Her Heart is Giving Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Autumn is insulted back to health, and is once again very bad at recovery.

“No, no, no I think her heart is giving out!” Dorian cried, panic raising his voice an octave. Bull swore behind him in Qunlat.

“What do we do? We have to do something!” Cassandra was gripping Autumn's hand tightly, her face red and splotchy for the endless tears that she had shed over the past couple of hours. They were all at their limit, everyone there frayed like the edges of a carpet cut with a dull knife, ragged with worry and fatigue as they had watch her slip further and further away from them. Dorian's magic had held her close, kept her from toppling away, but there was only so much a body could handle, only so many times skin could be healed and torn, only so much blood that could be lost before there was nothing left for a life to give.

Dorian ignored everything and began pumping Autumn's chest up and down, pulsing magic through her with each beat, trying to force the organ to start again. Her cold skin against his palms felt like torture, blood and ice making him slip as he tried to beat for her, tried to make her keep going when her body had finished.

“Not like this love, not like this. Don't you dare let this end here, this isn't even the grand finale!” he was scolding her, yelling at her as though he could shame her into staying in this world. He could taste the metallic tang of her life in the air, the blood all over scenting everything around them. Blood, ice, sweat, fear, the world around them was engulfed in these, swallowing them all into an endless chasm of dire feedback and ill omens. Dorian pumped away and could feel nothing from within her, no pulse, no life, not bubbling laughter or sardonic smiles, and it was going to make him sick.

Footsteps echoed loudly into the cavern as Varric rushed in, Lilly and Anders hot on his tail.

“Maker's breath...” the healer mumbled as he skidded to a halt and knelt beside them, taking in the damage to the small woman. Dorian felt him pulling magic before he even touched her.

“Her heart stopped!” Cassandra cried, near hysterics.

“How long ago?!” he demanded, eyes focused and calculating as they darted over every one of her wounds.

“Seconds ago.” Dorian told him.

Anders nodded and shoved him out of the way unceremoniously, taking over the healing process. Dorian managed to move himself back, sitting on the ground and bringing his knees up, letting his head hang between them. Nothing had ever felt as horrible as this did, and he had no energy left within him to do more than sit by, staring slack jawed around them, wondering if he had done enough.

“What happened?” Lilly asked the group, her brow creased in worry as she watched Anders work, a hand grabbing onto Varric's shoulder firmly as the dwarf looked ready to collapse.

“She wanted to take out the rest of the templars so she could get back to Skyhold.” Bull told her.

“We never should have let her....none of us thought of the fact that we had no healer, should anything occur. It should have been my responsibility. I should have known better, but I was worried for Cullen as much as she was. Now we might lose them both.” Cassandra wiped angrily at the tears on her face. Dorian felt the admission like a sharp knife in his gut, twisting at his already broken heart. The idea of a world without Cullen and Autumn was too much to possibly handle.

“You didn't get word, did you? Cullen is going to be fine, he made it through thanks to Solas and Cole.” Lilly told them, though her eyes never left the grim scene in front of them.

“Thank the Maker.” Cassandra said, the worry in her voice easing only slightly. Not both of them, then, Dorian thought. She was the only one in peril. The idea was not actually very comforting. The notion that she could leave them all behind, especially Cullen, sent Dorian's stomach rolling again.

“Do you hear that, love?” Dorian spoke quietly to Autumn's prone form. “He's alive, back at Skyhold waiting for you. You have to pull through now. You're not allowed to die after all that, after they saved him. You have to live and make a thousand little red headed, curly haired babies and fill all those horribly empty rooms in that castle of yours. I'll never forgive you if you do anything less.” he could feel the tears pouring out of his eyes, his voice rough with emotion. As if threatening her could save her.

“Boss, if you don't pull through I'll make sure your tombstone says 'Here lies Soggypants'.” Bull added, placing a comforting hand on Dorian's shoulder, giving him a nod of approval, as though the idea of trying to challenge her to live was a good one and not utterly insane.

“Hummingbird, that little heart of yours better start beating or I'm going to turn you into the star of my next romance serial. I swear I'll call it 'The Druffalo Queen'.” Varric was blinking harshly to avoid spilling his own tears. He turned after speaking, allowing Lilly to embrace him in full, burying his face into her leathers to avoid looking at the scene any further.

“Autumn Trevelyan, live or I swear I'll build your tomb on top of a mountain path with fifty ladders.” Cassandra put forth her own threat, her voice wavering dangerously.

“I don't have anything clever to threaten you with, but if you die it would definitely be breaking your promise to take care of Curly, and I might have to charge into the fade – _again_ – and make you pay for it.” Lilly joined in, her face taut.

They had tried praying, tried begging, tried singing, tried pacing and worrying and everything else that they could think of, and now they were threatening her, trying to blackmail her into holding on. If that didn't work, Dorian didn't know what would. He would just have to hope that she could hear them and that she would be stubborn enough to refuse death just to come back and yell at them.

***

“He's there, he's there!” Cole bounced on the balls of his feet excitedly, interrupting Cullen before he could start screaming at people. Solas had just finished explaining everything that had happened while he was down, and Cullen could hardly breathe around the black hole of fear tearing apart his chest. If she died it would be his fault, _his_ lyrium addiction that killed her. He would have unwittingly traded his own life for hers, and that was not a trade he would have ever allowed, given the choice. From the way Solas was looking at him, brow creased almost threateningly, the elf must have agreed.

“Cole, can Justice give us an update?” Solas broke his gaze away from Cullen and looked to the boy.

Cole nodded enthusiastically, his eyes focused on nothing while he apparently conferred with the demon possessing Anders. “He says...” his face fell. “The injuries are very grave Her heart...her heart isn't beating.” Cole clutched at his own shirt, bony fingers tearing at the fabric. If it had been possible for him to be any paler, Cullen was sure that he would have lost all color at the prospects of what that meant. As it was, the boy started shaking like a leaf, terror apparent in his pale blue eyes.

“Maker no...” Cullen whispered. He closed his eyes, shutting out the room and everyone in it. In his thoughts he reached out to her, reached out to whatever part of her could that be called her mind, her soul, her heart. He called out to it as he would call out to the Maker, praying to her essence as though it could hold her, could bring her to him. “No giving up.” he said, wishing with all his might she could hear him.

***

“Go back, little Hummingbird. You don't belong here.” the voice was grainy, slightly amused. A dark, feminine tone that was somehow musical in the way it floated across the words.

Autumn turned to look, but it was hard to see anything. Everything seemed blurry, out of focus. She caught glimpses of someone tall, a purple smear in the shimmering air.

“Varric calls me that.” she said, trying to piece together all the questions buzzing in her brain. She felt like she didn't really exist, like she was somehow there and not, all at once. Something told her that this was the fade, but she had no memory of going there. What had happened? She only had a vague sense of cold and heat, of spinning away. Her memories were jumbled like someone had tilted her head and tipped them out across the ground.

“You cannot be here, not yet. You have more to do in this world.” the woman repeated her admonishment. She sounded like she was smiling. “A few more hearts to break, I think.”

“Where am I? Go back where? How?”

“Always so many questions.” a dark chuckle shivered through the air. Autumn got the sense that she was being laughed at, feeling the woman's amusement more than hearing it.

“... a thousand little red headed, curly haired babies...” Dorian's voice drifted to her from somewhere far away, another sound that she almost felt more than she heard, feather soft against her.

“Dorian?” she asked the void all around her, spinning to see if she could find him. Or she felt like she was spinning. Nothing was clear, nothing made sense. With every turn the sights stayed the same, she was neither moving forward or backwards, left or right, but she was always shifting, sliding along the planes, fog in a cloud.

“Soggypants.” Bull's voice filtered through, sad and low.

“Where are you? Don't call me that!” she thought that she was stomping her foot in irritation, but the action felt strangely nonexistent. She looked down and could see her feet but couldn't feel them, like she was not really _in_ herself. She thought that she could hear other voices, reaching out to her, calling her from somewhere. They needed her. She needed to get out of here, wherever it was. “Where am I? Why can't I see them? How do I leave?”

“You don't need any answers. You only need to remember your own rules.”

“My rules?” her confusion was a storm within herself, churning in the depths of her mind and keeping her from understanding any of this.

“No giving up.” Cullen said, and she felt like she was tumbled off the edge of a cliff, thrown into free-fall.

“Remember girl, when the world falls down around you, that you have the strength to move the heavens.” the woman told her as she was falling away. “You won't remember me, but try to remember that.”

She fell away, speeding from wherever she was, the empty nothingness gliding by her frighteningly fast. Autumn hit the ground and felt the rush of pain through her bones and forgot all about the woman in the void.

***

“There!” Anders yelled, a small cry of triumph startling everyone in the cave. Dorian sat up, lifting his head out of his hands, his hair askew from pulling on it in anguish. For a moment he didn't know what had happened to make the healer behave in such a way, and they got no answers from him as he quickly bent back to working on Autumn, oblivious to the world as he focused. Then he saw it, the fluttering movement of her chest, the little breath passing between her lips, and when he reached out with what little magic he had left, he could feel her heart beating, the muscle pumping her blood once again as though it had never been interrupted.

“Is she...?” Varric began, but couldn't finish the question.

“Her heart's beating again.” Dorian told him, not bothering to hide his jubilation, completely unable to curb his enthusiasm at that simple fact.

Cassandra sank to her knees, her body collapsing under the rush of relief that they were all sharing. Her heart was beating, and it was quite possibly the most beautiful thing that Dorian had ever heard.

** *

Cullen would have preferred to get up and pace, to stomp heavy, booted feet around the room as a method of dispelling his own sickening tension. He would have liked to throw daggers at the wall, wail on a practice dummy, wrestle with an ogre...literally anything would have been better than sitting in bed, too weak to rise, forced to ball his fists into the blankets and swallow back his fears, the motion difficult to complete as his throat was suddenly as dry as tinder, a raspy wasteland next to his racing pulse. He watched Solas stalk about the room with envy, wishing he could match him stride for stride.

The distress in the room was palpable, so acute were everyone's fears that they had practically taken on a form of their own, an extra person leering at them all from the blank spaces their eyes were drawn to, searching for a place to rest where they wouldn't have to meet the gaze of another, wouldn't have to see their own despair reflected back at them. Cullen and Solas seemed to have different ideas, however. They met each others eyes often, honeyed amber crashing into ocean depths, sharing between them the dread that they both felt, sharing an accord over how deeply they cared for her. She was Cullen's very heart, without whom he might as well cease to draw breath, and she was Solas' dearest friend, without whom he would still be alienated from the rest of them. The others there all had attachments to her, all loved her dearly, but Cullen knew somehow that if she were lost, if she were to be taken from them, it would be they who would feel that loss the keenest.

“Beating, the soft flutter of life thumping against a battered chest but it's there the blood is flowing, this I can work with...” Cole shuddered, giving his head the customary shake as he popped back into the present. “Justice doesn't like me listening to Anders, but her heart is beating again.”

“Will she live?” Cullen and Solas asked at the same time, followed by dual grimaces over their synchronicity.

“He says he can repair the worst of the damage!” Cole practically danced with the news, unperturbed by the men's display as he hopped like an agitated bunny. “Justice says she is going to make it!”

Cullen was surprised that the walls of the building didn't collapse under the force of the collective sigh of relief. Sera started crying, massive tears pouring out of her eyes as she flung herself into Blackwall’s arms without warning. The warden patted her awkwardly, unsure how to handle the display. The others simply smiled at one another, nothing much to be said to encapsulate how exactly they were feeling.

Solas was at the bedside, meeting Cullen's gaze again, and the joy and relief passing between them was astounding. Cullen held out his hand and Solas grasped him around the forearm, a small celebration between the two of them. They had nearly died together at Adamant when they thought she was gone, and this time they had held their breath together as they waited to hear if she would slip death's grasp again. He grinned, and for once Solas matched the expression, his features lighting up in a bright smile. They didn't say anything, but they both knew that they felt the same thing. She was alive, and it was the greatest news they had heard all night.

_******* _

_Autumn,_

_I'm told they are keeping you sedated, for the most part, in an effort to prevent you from marching around the Emprise du Lion and undoing all of Anders’ hard work. I would entreat you to rest, but after all this time I think I've learned sedating you is probably the wiser option. (Yes, I am smirking at you, since I know you are wondering.)_

_Josephine and Leliana are vehemently against this, but in an effort to keep following our rules I must inform you that we received a letter from your father. Apparently he is sending you a husband, and expects you to marry him, leave the Inquisition, and return home. Your family seems charming. I hope you will forgive me for not waiting until your return before I handle this matter._

_I will be sure to send your fiancee your warmest regards, and I will compose a letter to your father myself to let him know just how grateful I am that he contacted us._

_In the meantime, get some rest and take it easy. Everything is well in hand here. I miss you sorely, and look forward to seeing you again._

_Love always,_

_-Cullen_

**

_Sister,_

_send assassins after my father and brother immediately. That is an order._

_-Hummingbird_

_**_

_Nightingale,_

_You never should have let Curly write that note. It took Tiny all his strength to wrestle her back into bed after that, and Blondie nearly broke his nose getting in to put her back to sleep. Both of them are asserting that he owes them a drink...or eight._

_She insisted that we send the last missive and made the Seeker swear on her honor that it would reach you, but we all seem to be in accord that you should disregard the order. We aren't sure what exactly the story is, but she was hardly coherent enough by that point to be thinking clearly._

_In other news, Blondie says the wounds are healing well enough, but the lyrium poisoning is going to keep her laid up for at least another couple of weeks. Nothing to worry over, she's definitely out of the woods, just feverish and delirious while the whole thing runs its course. It's a shame we have to keep her under for so much, when she's awake the things that pop out of her mouth are pretty hilarious. She went on a thirty minute tirade about ladders at one point that had even the Seeker struggling to breathe around the laughter._

_Try not to let Curly murder the suitor. Poor guy probably has no idea what he's in store for._

_Yours,_

_-the Author_

***

“Anders, I swear on all that is holy if you put me to sleep again right now I will find your ass in the fade and give you nightmares.” she snapped at the healer as he checked her over again.

It was stuffy in the tent she had been holed up in for what she was positive was most of her life. It had in fact been only a couple of weeks, but for Autumn a couple of weeks trapped in the same place stretched out into something feeling much, much longer. It was a special tent that had been enchanted by Dagna to produce its own heat, someone having been smart enough to run with her earlier idea while she was out. As it was, Autumn resented the warmth. At first it had been nice, once she had learned Cullen was fine and there was no longer any immediate crises. It was pleasant to bask in the warmth and comfort. However, after a couple weeks of being stuck in her cot, completely forbidden from doing anything but sleeping, she was ready to set the whole damn structure on fire just to get a little entertainment.

It did not help matters that she was still sore and feverish, the red lyrium still wreaking havoc on her system so that she felt like she was fighting off the worst flu of her life.Her companions fussed over her incessantly before Anders would inevitably be forced to put her back under when she tried to get out of bed to do something, _anything_. Now the infuriating man was smirking at her, amused at her disgruntled behavior. He was very much like Cullen in that way, perfecting that same self satisfied half smile. She wondered if there was a club of smirking blonde men somewhere that she had never heard about before, where they all got together and practiced exactly how to irritate women.

“I will refrain only if you promise to stay in bed.”

“I have been in bed forever. I am practically attached to this bed. _I need to get out of this bed._ ” she crossed her arms over her chest, pouting and petulant.

He laughed, because he was a horrible person. “You need to keep resting, or else you will never get better, and then you really _will_ be in the bed forever.”

“I hate you.” she snapped, although they both knew she didn't mean it in the slightest.

“Oh? Well then, I guess I will just have to take this package that came for you and dispose of it. I shan't be delivering presents to someone who hates me.” he snickered as he grabbed the small parcel from the table behind him, tossing it into the air casually. When he caught it he held it still for a moment, and she could see the careful, squared away handwriting that she would recognize anywhere by this point. Cullen had sent her something.

“Give me that!”she demanded, reaching for it even though she was nowhere near close enough.

“Oh ho? And does the lady have something she wishes to apologize for, then?” he smirked.

Autumn would have said something vile to him, but before she could Lilly was through the tent flap, smacking him soundly on the back of the head.

“Ow! What did I ever do to you?” he rubbed the spot as he finally relented and tossed the package to her. Lilly raised an eyebrow at her lover. “Right, fine, don't answer that.” he mumbled.

“Stop torturing the poor girl.” Lilly admonished as she placed a light kiss on the mage's cheek.

Autumn ignored them and tore open the brown paper on the package, lifting the note out to read it first.

 

_Autumn,_

_I thought you might enjoy this._

_Please rest and get well soon, my bed is so much colder when you're gone._

_I love you._

_-Cullen_

 

It was simple, sweet, and to the point, but it filled her heart with so much joy that she thought she might melt, right there in the damn tent, just fall to giddy little pieces in front of the Champion and her lover. She clutched the letter to her chest like some star struck maiden, causing both Lilly and Anders to chuckle at her. Anders wrapped his arm around Lilly, as though seeing Autumn's lovestruck idiocy reminded him to hold his own love close. A contented sigh escaped from between her lips as she set the letter aside to examine the present within.

Autumn burst out laughing, the force of the action shaking her sides painfully, but she could hardly help it. She lifted the stuffed animal out of the box, adoring its patchwork skin and overlarge, googly eyes. Cullen had gotten her a stuffed druffalo. She hugged it to her chest, laughing so hard that she was sure she looked insane. Lilly and Anders watched her with bemusement, clearly confused as to her reaction.

“It's a long story.” Autumn told them. “But I'm sure if you ask Varric he can explain it.”

“I think I have to hear this.” Lilly said before spinning away and heading out of the tent. Anders watched her go, letting out a small sigh before he turned back to his patient.

“Are you going to stay in bed and behave?” he asked her, eying her with the practiced, stern face of a man that dedicated his life to healing cantankerous charges.

She sighed. “I will stay put, if you promise to bring me something to read.”

“Alright. I believe Master Pavus has had a stack of reading material ready just in case you finally came to your senses.” He started to turn to leave.

“Anders?”

“Yes, Autumn?”

“Thank you. For helping save Cullen, and for coming back to save me.” her voice shook just slightly, the emotions that had overtaken her that night still a little too raw.

“Anytime.” he replied before he left the tent to fetch her reading materials.

She smiled to herself, thinking of how lucky she was to have so many friends on hand when things went wrong. Clearly she must be doing something right.

 


	43. King of Blah Blah Blah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which letters are sent.

_V._

_I'm told I should use just your initial when I send letters. I must say I find it highly amusing that you have been keeping in touch with everyone through a secret network of crows. It does sound EXACTLY like something you would do, however, so I can't say I'm surprised._

_When you said you were sending me our lovely pirate friend for safe harbor you certainly neglected to mention that her companions included her murderous, broody elven husband and a confused Dalish bloodmage. The stodgy no-quite-a-templar runaway isn’t so bad, though. She’s like if Morrigan had never been a mage, and maybe just a tad more murderous. I like her. Although It would have been nice to have some warning about this beforehand. I owe you for that. I'm not sure what I'm going to do about it, but rest assured it will be particularly special._

_I heard about everything that happened at Adamant. I'm sure the rumors don't really begin to cover it. I would very much like to hear of the account first hand, if any of you ever get a chance after you're done saving the world and all that._

_I'm worried. About...well, you know what about. I’m pretty much always worried about that by default, but I mean to say I’m especially worried currently. If you hear anything, please find a way to let me know. After what happened with the wardens...I know there's a lot going on right now, but if anybody in the Inquisition can find her, please let them try._

_Give my love to the Commander and that red headed rogue you have running around. Don't let them get into any trouble._

_Sincerely,_

_King Alistair Theirin, King of blah blah blah you get the picture._

_PS, There is a cat here the bloodmage brought that is named after you. I thought it might amuse you to know the little beast has taken over the mabari kennels and has all the dogs at its beck and call. If anyone so much as scolds it the hounds are sent to barking and growling, as though you set a darkspawn loose in their midst. How is it even cats named after you seem to get in more trouble than they’re worth?_

******

_Cullen,_

_Thanks for the druffalo. I named him Commander and he sleeps with me every night. He does such a better job of keeping me warm than any blanket._

_Love,_

_-Autumn_

 

_Autumn,_

_I am now royally jealous of a stuffed animal. Thank you for that._

_Love,_

_-Cullen_

 

_Cullen,_

_Don't worry, I don't have nearly as much fun with him as I would you._

_Although I have been kissing him goodnight, since you're not here._

_Love,_

_-Autumn_

 

_Autumn,_

_I am now honor bound to challenge him to a duel to the death._

_Love,_

_-Cullen_

 

_Cullen,_

_My, my. I had no idea you were so jealous, my love._

_I will inform the stuffed druffalo that it's over between us. There is apparently only room for one Commander in my life, after all._

_I love you and miss you terribly._

_Love,_

_-Autumn_

 

_Autumn,_

_I love you and miss you as well, dear heart._

_I will forgive your druffalo based indiscretions. This time._

_I can't wait until your return._

_Love,_

_-Cullen_

_**_

_Sister,_

_I have been informed that you have not, in fact, sent assassins out to depose of my family._

_Is it too late to do it anyways, or would Josie have my head?_

_-Hummingbird_

 

_Hummingbird,_

_Not a chance. I want to see what happens when our Commander and your fiancee are thrown into the grande hall together. Josie has a banquet planned. This will be far too entertaining to cut short with simple assassinations._

_-Sister_

 

_Sister,_

_You are a wicked woman and I hope that someday someone arranges your marriage behind your back._

_I know, I know, nothing ever happens behind your back, but maybe in some alternate universe you are getting your just deserves._

_Can we at least plan some sort of retaliation?_

_Also, I'm pretty sure our Commander might kill whoever my father is sending. He had already threatened to duel a stuffed animal to the death for stealing my affections. Some man intending to marry me is really going to get it._

_-Hummingbird_

 

_Hummingbird,_

_I don't know what part about any of that made me laugh more, but I am a-tingle with anticipation for what is to come. Honestly, Josie might kill him if he does anything TOO drastic, but I promise to at least try to keep him in one piece if something like that happens._

_Send my love to the others._

_-Sister_

 


	44. I Like to Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Autumn's brother arrives, and he is very unpleasant.

The sun climbed high over the peaks of the Frostbacks, casting a golden glow over everything, pink hues of the early morning light filtering across the snow and banishing the night. It was to be a beautiful day in Skyhold, the birds already flitting about and singing merrily, their cries melodic promises to fill the sky with gaiety throughout the day. Even the chill that was normally present didn't seem so severe, the wind brisk but not as searing as it might have otherwise been.

The three advisors waited at the end of the gates as the large retinue approached, two horse mounted figures at the fore of the party leading a not inconsequential force of men, all wearing the Trevelyan house colors. Cullen gripped the pommel of his sword, standing as tall as he could manage, trying his best to fill his chest with calm assurance over the anxious rage that wanted to take hold. Leliana stood beside and slightly behind him, arms folded behind her back, a mask of serenity affixed on her face, although he could see the mirth dancing in her blue eyes. Josephine all but wrung her hands, shuffling her feet imperceptibly as she waited for the noble to arrive. He almost felt sorry for her. She was nervous beyond belief about what the repercussions of this “visit” would be, especially after Cullen had made it absolutely clear that he had no intentions of letting the men stay for any overdue length of time, and certainly not long enough to await Autumn's return. He fully planned on having the lot of them long gone before his love arrived, feeling that she had been through quite enough as it was. She shouldn't have to deal with her remarkably unpleasant family on top of all that had already happened since she had left for the Emprise du Lion. _This_ burden he could take from her shoulders.

Even if Cullen had known nothing about the man approaching, he would have immediately disliked him. The two nobles that led the procession rode on fine horses that seemed overly exhausted, the animals likely having been mistreated and neglected the entire ride over, a criminal waste of perfectly fine mounts. The men behind them looked harried, over marched, and in need of a good night's rest and a hot meal for far longer than was necessary. Though he could not see the faces of the men approaching, overly ornate helms covering their visages, he could feel the sneers that would be slapped across their mouths, their haughty demeanor giving away exactly what they thought of the Inquisition, the set of their shoulders betraying their disrespect. It was no matter, however. Cullen would disabuse them of any foolish notions they may be carrying with them.

Leliana had done her job days ago, gathering information on the would be husband of their beloved leader, even if information about the retinue itself had been slim. His name was Thurston de Carrac, part of a strong noble family in the Marches that dealt mostly in money lending and land trading. He was set to take over the running of the family estate soon, his aging father already on his deathbed. Of his personality they could only find rumors, of course, but he was said to be a hard, unyielding man, insufferably more concerned about himself and his own interests than anything else. Callous was a word used by many of the people they had sought information from. Certainly not a man loved by many people, which of course made him exactly the sort of man that might fall in with the Trevelyans, if Autumn's opinions of her family could be believed. Which, of course, they could.

The moment, it seemed, had arrived, and the men reigned in their horses, stopping just in front of the welcoming retinue. Josephine stepped forward, her features lighting up in her best diplomatic grin. Cullen had a hard time understanding how she could be so pleasant with all of the high born pricks that she had to deal with day in and day out, let alone how she seemed to delight in the entire process. He supposed that's what made him the commander and she the ambassador. Even she seemed to be having trouble holding her grin this morning, however. Whether from dislike of de Carrac or her discomfiture on what Cullen would do, he couldn't be sure.

They waited awkwardly for a moment for the men to dismount, as would have been courteous. When neither of them made a move to do so, Josephine took another small step towards them.

“Ser de Carrac, it is my honor to welcome you to Skyhold.” she did a small curtsy, the ruffles of her skirt bobbing slightly with the action, and inclined her head politely.

The man to the left made a small grunt of acknowledgment and took off his helm, resting it in the crook of his arm. Cullen was surprised to see a pale young man, with short cropped, red hair several shades darker than Autumn's and very similar, delicately shaped features. They were distorted on him, far more sharp, where she might be soft and round he would be harsh and angular. His eyes were a dark echo of hers, like the leaves of a pine forest in a moonless midnight.

“Where is my sister?” he asked, failing to apply the courtesy of introducing himself and frowning down at the three advisors.

“The Inquisitor has been detained in the field and will not be joining us.” Cullen told him crisply. The man's cold eyes turned to scrutinize him. He looked him up and down, the gesture a naked attempt to size him up, measure his worth. Cullen resisted the urge to smirk at him while he did so, settling instead for a polite smile.

He returned his gaze to Josephine, seeming to dismiss Cullen from his thoughts without any further consideration. “My men need food and rest, and I require a bath drawn up at once. I trust this...Skyhold, was it? I trust it will have accommodations fit enough for messere de Carrac and myself?” his voice implied that he doubted Skyhold had anything that could be considered “fit”. Cullen gripped the pommel of his sword tightly, the only betrayal of his urge to march back inside and close the gates on this pompous ass.

“Certainly. We have already prepared a place for Ser de Carrac, and will be happy to find lodging for you as well, ser...” Josephine paused pointedly, waiting for him to introduce himself despite the fact that she had surely already surmised his identity, her good nature clearly waning. It not bode well for a man’s character if he could stretch the patience of the indefatigable Antivan.

“Andrew Trevelyan.” he supplied finally.

“Yes, Ser Trevelyan. If you would be so kind as to follow me, I can show you to your quarters.” she bowed again, and the two finally dismounted and followed her in through the gates, handing the reins of their mounts off to the stable hands waiting for them. Cullen turned to face Leliana, and was surprised to see her expression dark with anger.

“Perhaps assassins would have been better after all. I fear this ass will wear my patience before we send them packing.” she told him.

Cullen chuckled. “Never fear. I ensure you I will see to it that we impress upon them exactly what they are worth to the Inquisition and its Inquisitor.”

The sparkle returned to her eyes and he was rewarded with a dazzling smile. “Cullen, you are a blessing.”

“Not at all. Just an overprotective, overly jealous man who knows far too much about the Trevelyans to take this visit kindly.” he smirked at her as the laughter pealed out of her throat.

Walking back into the courtyard, they both went to set about their duties for the day while Cullen's men got the Trevelyan troops settled in and Josephine saw to the dignitaries. The coming days would be interesting, to say the least.

***

_Hummingbird,_

_Just met your brother and finacee. I am reconsidering assassinations, but our Commander seems to want to assert his dominance first._

_You should see him, it's quite adorable. I will keep you posted when something interesting finally happens._

_-Sister_

***

The door to the war room burst open, Josephine stomping in and taking up her customary position at the table. The diplomat looked harried, for the first time Cullen could ever remember, dark strands of hair falling out of her braids and a scowl on her normally amiable features.

“Trouble?” Leliana asked, setting down the missive she was reading and regarding her long time friend curiously.

“I have never met anyone so...so.... _arrogant_ in my life! He complains about everything, from the room to the food to the servants...he has insulted almost everyone he has encountered, and seems to think that our entire organization is at his beck and call.” she huffed.

“Which one? The fiancee or the brother?” Cullen arched a brow at her.

“Surprisingly, the brother. Ser de Carrac seems to play second fiddle to Andrew.” she took a deep breath, tucking the wayward locks of hair back into place.

“She's told me some of her brother. I want him watched while he's here. I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw Bull, and if he's here we can be certain it's to cause trouble.” Cullen scowled, remembering Autumn's account of her brother's templar friends. Andrew Trevelyan's arrival was an unpleasant surprise, heaped on top of an already unpleasant situation.

“I've already taken care of it, Commander. Whatever he does while he's here is being closely monitored.” Leliana nodded to him, and Cullen found himself impressed and grateful for just how well the spymaster did her job.

“Why were we not told her brother would be in attendance? Would that not have been important information to divulge?” Cullen asked, turning to Josie.

“It's an insult. A surprise visit by a nobleman is meant to catch us off guard, to show that we are unprepared to receive such guests. It also shows how little regard they have for us, that they would think they could get away with abandoning such courtesies.” the diplomat clenched her jaw. “I think I am beginning to see the merits of getting them out of here as fast as possible.”

“How soon am I allowed to kick them out?” Cullen smiled even as she rolled her eyes at his question.

“We still cannot 'kick them out', Commander. Whatever we do has to be politically defensible. They must be provided due courtesies...so they must either leave of their own accord, do something that would warrant their eviction, or be given enough time as is accorded an honored guest.”

“So you are still firm on the two week stay?” Leliana chimed in.

“I cannot cut it shorter, or we would appear unwelcoming to visiting dignitaries.” the Antivan held up her hands in defeat, helpless against the restrictions of the ridiculous customs of high society.

Cullen snorted. “I wouldn't mind having less of them showing up at our doorstep.” Josephine let out a beleaguered sigh, readying to argue the same points that she had made time and time again, but he held up a hand to forestall her. “I know, I know. Don't worry, I will be the picture of decorum.” she eyed him dubiously. “Well, I may try to goad them into leaving, but I will do so very...chivalrously.” he grinned at her while Leliana chuckled maliciously.

She surprised them by returning the smile. “While I urge you to use restraint, and I beg you to keep this from being a political disaster for me, may I just say...knock him on his ass, Commander.”

***

_Sister,_

_If Andrew came you should be careful. He's a conniving little shit if there ever was one. If my father sent him it could mean trouble. Likely trouble he is intending to cause._

_Also, when is our Commander not adorable? A. says if you ask him about his nameday presents in Kirkwall he will start blushing profusely. If he asks you didn't hear it from me._

_Make sure nobody I like gets killed._

_-Hummingbird_

 

_Hummingbird,_

_Is your family all so...distasteful? I don't think I've ever met anyone I disliked quite so much in my entire life, and I fought an archdemon._

_Are you quite certain you're actually related? I could hunt around if you wish. Perhaps we can disprove any connection to you and these cretins can fade back into the bog they crawled out of._

_Even Josie is rooting for some just deserves at this point._

_-Sister_

***

Cullen shuffled the papers around on his desk, organizing the stacks of missives and reports into a more manageable disaster that he would be able to attend to at some point the next day. He doubted that he would be able to accomplish much in the way of his usual duties, but it would be nice to have things lined up on the off chance that he could get anything useful done. He suspected that touring the “honored guests” around the hold would be far more taxing and time consuming than he would hope.

He sighed, rubbing firmly at the tension bundling on the back of his neck. He wished that they could simply ask the men to leave, to flat out tell them that this marriage contract was ludicrous and not even being considered. He wished he could just hang a sign around Autumn's neck declaring her taken, so that they could avoid fiasco's like this in the future. With any luck this would be the last such instance, however. Word would spread of their involvement after her fiancee was sent away empty handed. Josephine might despair over what that would mean in Orlais, when they attended the ball, but Cullen couldn't feel anything but relief.

He wasn't insecure enough to actually feel threatened by the marriage proposals submitted to her, as though they were mailing her business contracts to be approved rather than asking to spend a life with someone. He knew that she would never actually consider any of them, knew that what they had together was stronger than that. That did not keep the little flare of possessiveness from rearing its head every time. Cullen wanted it _known_ that they were together, wanted people aware that he loved her and that she loved him. Maybe it was foolish but he could not deny the primal urge to carry her up to the rooftops and shout down to all the world that she was _his_.

“Darkness where in her there is light, angry at the world, at her, reaching, grasping, yearning for what was supposed to be, twisting it into something it could never have been but should have...” Cole's soft voice startled Cullen out of his reverie and banished the images of Autumn and the things they could do on the battlements that had suddenly invaded his mind. He was proud of himself for not jumping quite as much as he normally would, having grown used to the spirit's lurking at this point.

“Good evening, Cole.” he said, disregarding what the boy had said. They certainly hadn't been his own thoughts, and Cullen knew that he would likely never be able to decipher it anyhow.

“Good evening, Commander Cullen.” Cole gave him a bright smile for a moment, but his face fell again shortly after. “I don't like the men that came today.”

“I don't either.” Cullen agreed, not sure what else to say.

“Their minds are dark and twisted, their thoughts all wound up in themselves, too tight to see anything clearly but the blinding rage. Solas says to tell you what I hear.”

Cullen blinked at him for a moment, letting his words sink in as the idea took form in his head. They were already suspicious of Andrew's presence, but even keeping a close eye on him, Cullen knew that Leliana's people could still potentially miss something. Perhaps having Cole there could be played to their advantage.

“Cole, would you like to help me while the Trevelyan forces are here?”

“I like to help.” the sweet smile that spread across his face was so childlike that Cullen had to resist the urge to reach out, remove his hat and ruffle his hair.

“Good. I want you to stay with me while the men are here, and tell me if they are thinking of doing anything that would cause trouble. Can you do that?”

“I can try. Their thoughts are...soft and thick. Like trying to pull at cotton in a spiderweb, everything tangled and caught together.”

“It's okay, anything you can manage would be useful.” Cullen clapped Cole on the back warmly. Then, as he remembered Cole's lack of a filter, added, “Oh, and don't talk directly to them. Anything you want to say, whisper it to me and I'll tell you if it's okay to say it. Is that alright?”

Cole looked contrite. “I'm sorry I say too much sometimes...”

“It's alright Cole, I don't mind anymore, truly. I just don't want them to know we are on to them.”

Cole smiled and nodded, his hat flopping comically with the motion. Cullen stood and grabbed his things, walking with the boy to dinner at the main hall, where - Maker willing - the night would not dissolve into armed duels over the roast chicken.

 


	45. Master of the Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Vivienne eviscerates people verbally.

Solas very nearly opted not to attend the banquet that evening. He found the notion that they were playing host to men who clearly had dishonorable intentions to be tiresome. Not to mention that the idea Autumn could be traded off like some chattel to the highest bidder threatened to send him into a blind rage. Normally he enjoyed the machinations of politics, the scheming and drama happening behind the polite veneers was fascinating to him. He found, however, that when it came to _her,_ he was unable to take pleasure in the games and intrigues. The gall of someone trying to use her as a pawn...well, suffice to say Solas was unhappy over the entire scenario, despite the slight amount of hypocrisy that brought onto his shoulders.

Generally dinner in Skyhold was a merry affair, particularly during the times when everyone managed to gather together all at once. Some of the fondest memories he had been able to collect while awake were of watching Autumn and her friends – no, his friends, he corrected himself – cavort around the tables. He relished her easy laughter and smiles when around them all, no battles to be fought for the time being. Unless one counted trying to keep Bull and Sera sober enough to walk themselves home at the end of the night, which to be fair was the only battle all of them lost on a regular basis. Varric would regale them all with stories that were only half true at best, but none of them ever seemed to mind. The best part, however, was that in those moments Solas could be sure Autumn was safe. She was surrounded by those that loved her most, a group of people that would lay down their lives in a heartbeat to save her, and indeed to save any of their number. Even if the worst were to happen and Corypheus marched through the door, Solas knew Autumn would be defended to the last, that nothing could touch her without going through each one of them.

Tonight was unfortunately not going to be as pleasant as a banquet at Skyhold normally would. The air was thick with tension, the general rank and file picking up on their leader's unease. Those that knew who their guests were and why they were there were understandably confused. The relationship between their Inquisitor and their Commander was no secret within these walls, was in fact a source of great celebration to most, so anyone aware that the man they entertained was supposedly her fiancee could make neither heads nor tails of the matter.

It was worse amongst those actually close to Autumn, who knew exactly how she would feel for such an arrangement. Being forced to hold their tongues was almost too much to ask. It actually _was_ too much to ask in Sera's case, who had been banished to the tavern for the evening, no one trusting her to be able to hold in any glib comments that might come to her lips. Blackwall was with her, assigned elven archer guard duty for the evening in case the open tab Josephine had granted her was not enough of a deterrent to leaving the tavern. That, and the fact that a good portion of their number were still in the Emprise du Lion, made their normally crowded table rather empty. The three advisors would be joining them, Vivienne, who was of course already there, and Solas himself were going to be the only people present. He could only hope that this wouldn't force him into conversation with the Marchers. Solas wasn't sure his patience could extend very far if he were not able to simply keep his mouth shut for the evening.

If it weren't for the fact that he was positive that her brother had something planned to harm her or those she held dear, he would have skipped the evening altogether. As it was, he felt that he needed to watch the men carefully to thwart whatever plans they had, which is why he regretfully readied himself and joined the others at his customary place at the table.

The great hall was brightly lit, every sconce and holder filled with cheery fire, the light dancing around the room in stark contrast to the mood. Inquisition banners had been hung in several places, with nary a hint of Trevelyan colors, a subtle sign that Josephine was not completely supportive of welcoming their visitors unduly. The tables had been rearranged to place one of them at the front of the hall, in a place of honor. Normally Autumn refused to allow such separation, preferring to keep everyone together in a more approachable setting, but Josephine always changed it when they had visitors of sufficient rank.

Solas sat at his place at the table, smiling politely to the women already seated. Their guests of honor had yet to arrive, and Cullen was absent as well. Solas tried not to hope that the Commander had somehow gotten into a fight with the men already, and was sending them packing before this arduous meal even began.

“Good evening Solas. I trust you are well?” Josephine asked primly.

“I will be better when it is over, I fear.” he told her, unable to avoid being honest about his discomfort. Josephine gave him a tired smile of acknowledgment. They were all of the same opinion, he knew.

“My dear, you have been warned about our guests behavior, yes?” Vivienne eyed him auspiciously over her goblet, sipping delicately at her wine.

Solas frowned. “They have done something?”

“No, but they likely will. They have made a point to find a way to insult nearly everyone they have crossed paths with. I think they are trying to bait someone from the Inquisition into doing something rash.” Leliana explained, her own goblet cradled between her deft fingers as though it were something precious. Solas knew that it was likely the only thing keeping her hands from slipping to the hilts of the daggers that she no doubt had strapped somewhere on her body.

“We have already warned the staff, but I expect all of you to hold your tempers as well.” Josephine added, fixing both mages with a pointed stare.

“Solas, my dear, I expect them to go directly for a dig at your elven heritage, as they are wholly unimaginative in their game thus far.” Vivienne scoffed.

He smiled bitterly at them. “I cannot promise to hold my tongue, but you can be certain my temper will remain cool. I have no wish for confrontation with these men.” If he were being perfectly honest with himself, that wasn't true. He _did_ wish he had an excuse to tear them asunder, set the pieces on fire, and send the resulting ashes to the fade. He was not entirely unsympathetic towards their diplomats situation, however, and would behave himself for her sake, if nothing else. Besides that, he was certain that if Cullen wasn't the one to send the men packing their dear Commander would sulk for days, and Solas couldn't quite bring himself to deny the man the satisfaction. “Madame de Fer, I am surprised you are not more amenable to this arrangement.” he added, turning to Vivienne to address her directly.

“Whatever do you mean?” she blinked at him, her well-groomed eyebrow climbing towards the ceiling.

“You seem the type who would support a marriage of politics.”

“Ah. I see. Well, my dear, marriage _is_ a construct that should be used to further one's status. However, you overlook the obvious if you think I would support this particular arrangement.”

“Would you care to elaborate?” Leliana jumped in, her interest piqued.

“Well, for one, I am not without sympathy for our dear Inquisitors attachment to our Commander. Despite the political uses of marriage, I can understand a heart in love. I feel it would be a waste to marry for such a small reason, but I'm certain that Autumn feels differently. The bigger issue, however, is that one should only marry to further their own gain, whether in status or resources. At this point, I think it is fair to say that short of the leader of a foreign power, there _isn’t_ anyone that would bring sufficient prowess to the table to make it worth her time. She is the leader of one of the most powerful forces in Thedas, a power that is only set to grow once we attend the ball in Halamshiral, I'm sure. This marriage would bring no benefit to her _or_ the Inquisition. It serves only to raise the man seeking her hand far, far above his station. All things considered, I see no reason she should be forced to lower herself so far.”

“Yet you approve of her relationship with Cullen?” Solas asked her. “Would she not be lowering herself to marry an ex-templar with no holdings? He certainly doesn't meet the qualification of leading a country.”

Vivienne smiled at him as though he were a darling child, which at one time would have irked Solas. Having grown to know the enchanter better, however, he had learned the subtle twists of her humors to be able to tell when she truly meant to be demeaning. Now was not one of those times, as she held affection for those present. “Cullen is also a good man, and one who happens to run her army. If she cannot marry for power, then she should certainly be allowed to marry for love. Besides, the effect their pairing has on morale is nearly reason enough to justify it even if there _were_ other, more suitable matches.”

Leliana giggled softly over her wine. “My dear Madame de Fer, has our Inquisitor softened even your heart of iron?”

Vivienne laughed at that, a surprisingly girlish sound bubbling from her lips. “Perhaps, my dear Nightingale. If anyone could, it would be her.”

The party looked up as one as the Commander entered the dining hall, chatting amiably with Cole while they strode over to the table. Leliana arched a brow at the inclusion of the spirit, but said nothing. Solas was pleased that it seemed Cullen had taken heed of Cole's warning, and apparently intended to make good use of his abilities. The talents the spirit had would likely be invaluable in the weeks to come, even if they would be no more than a precaution in the end. Cullen was wise to utilize him, and wiser still to keep him close.

As the two noblemen were led into the hall behind the Commander and assassin, Solas found himself wondering if any of it would be enough to make this bearable.

***

Cullen ignored the tension in the hall as he sat at the table, ensuring Cole was seated next to him in case the spirit had anything that he needed to share during the course of dinner. He kept his face relaxed, forced his shoulders to remain loose, even as he became aware of the men walking into the hall behind him. Their was markedly less chatter tonight than he was used to, the nervous tinkling of cutlery against plates more audible than it should have been, awkward coughs carrying through the air and bouncing against the walls, swallowed by the shadows in the high ceiling. Cullen did his best to ignore all of it, focusing instead on keeping the casual demeanor that he would rely on through the night. As he watched the noblemen swagger to the table, he knew that he was going to be hard pressed to hold onto his calm.

Andrew Trevelyan was dressed in sharp finery, a dark red shirt nearly the color of his hair draped over soft, black trousers. Thurston wore similar attire, though his red was several shades brighter, enough to seem garish, particularly in comparison to his companion. Cullen got his first good look at the man who intended to wed Autumn as they approached. He was tall, an imposing figure towering over most others in the hall, with broad shoulders and squared away hips, making him resemble something akin to a walking brick wall. He had a round face and sharp nose, with small, beady grey eyes roaming over the scene. His hair was black and greasy, curled in a dark mass atop his head, an ironic antithesis to the hairstyle Cullen had favored when he was younger. His lips twitched as though they wished to sneer at those seated before him.

“Good evening, gentleman. I trust you are well?” Josephine beamed at them as they sat.

Andrew flicked an invisible speck of dirt off his shoulder, not meeting her eyes. “I am adequate enough, all things considered.”

“I was surprised at how nice the accommodations were, Lady Montilyet.” Thurston said. Andrew shot him a sour look, and he seemed to waver. “Certainly not as nice as I am used to, but...adequate.” he shakily echoed Andrew's words, swallowing visibly as he glanced back to the man.

Cullen marveled at the exchange. Second fiddle indeed. Thurston seemed to be little more than a Trevelyan puppet. Had the man no dignity? Thurston grabbed a nearby goblet and gulped greedily at it, a small amount of wine escaping from his mouth to run down his chin. He wiped it away sloppily with is bare hands, then wiped those on his shirt, answering Cullen's unasked question remarkably well.

“It is good to hear.” was all Josephine said, her tone sweet enough to rot teeth. “Allow me to introduce some of our more senior members. This is Commander Cullen, our Intelligence officer Leliana, First Enchanter Lady Vivienne, fade expert Solas, and...Cole, a member of our Inquisitor's strike team.” she hesitated only momentarily before introducing Cole, the pause only perceptible to those that knew her, and even if it wasn't, was only likely to be understood by those that knew what Cole was. Andrew and Thurston didn't seem to pick up on it, and they managed curt nods to all those present.

Conversation was silenced briefly as the servers brought in the food, laying steaming plates of meats and broiled vegetables before each person. The fare smelled enticingly good, but Cullen found his appetite to be next to nonexistent. He forced himself to start eating nonetheless. He couldn't bring himself to give Andrew the satisfaction of knowing that he had affected him in any way, even if the smugness radiating off of him was strong enough to curdle cream.

“So,” Andrew began, spearing a steamed carrot and lifting it into the air as he spoke, “when will the _Inquisitor_ be returning?” he used her title like a filthy name, the disdain in his voice lifting the side of his lips.

“I'm afraid she will not be returning for another few weeks.” Josephine replied politely, pointedly leaving out the information that the present company was only set to stay with them for two.

“What exactly is detaining her?” Thurston asked irritably.

“She was wounded in the line of duty and has been recovering in the field.” Leliana answered him.

“ _Duty._ ” Andrew snorted into his wine, looking bored. “No doubt she's bitten off more than she can chew.”

“And what would you know of our beloved Inquisitor's biting capacity?” Vivienne purred, causing Solas to smirk ever so slightly. Cullen never really thought that he would get the urge to gush over Vivienne with adoration, but with that comment and that demeanor she was like a breath of fresh air this evening. It was a relief that she was on their side in this precarious situation.

Andrew smiled, but the gesture didn't reach his eyes. “Her bark was always a fair deal more troublesome than her bite, I'm afraid.”

“You have clearly never been bitten by her then.” Cullen inserted smoothly, keeping his eyes focused on his plate. Josephine choked slightly on the bite of food she had in her mouth, eyes widening at him.

He could feel Andrew's eyes on him, studying him. Only after he had finished chewing did he look up to meet the man's stare, regarding him calmly. He could see curiosity within him, a cold calculating speculation searching his face with every dart of his eyes. “Not in any literal sense of the phrase, no.” he rejoined evenly.

“I'm sure both her bark and her bite would subside in time. Given the right guidance, of course.” Thurston said over a mouthful of food, chuckling as though he thought himself clever for the remark. Vivienne grimaced visibly at his poor manners.

“You haven't met her yet, have you dear?” the enchanter cooed at him, shaking her head slightly, as though she pitied him somehow. Thurston blinked stupidly at her, a great cow being presented with math.

“What do you mean?” he narrowed his eyes, as if adjusting his field of vision would make him understand the situation better.

“I would explain it to you, my dear, but I'm afraid we don't have the time to gather the necessary charts and diagrams it would no doubt require.” her smile was ice, her lavender eyes dancing with mirth. Thurston merely continued to stare, unaware that he had just been called an imbecile.

Andrew cleared his throat noisily, a calculating smile plastered on his face as he endeavored to hide his annoyance. “My apologies if my sister has been causing any of you trouble. She has always been rather...willful.”

Leliana chuckled. “Your sister is like Maraas-lok in a fine, Orlesian teacup. 'Willful' does not do her justice.”

“What in Andraste's name is Maraas-lok?” Thurston asked, and Cullen watched as Solas gave the moron a withering glance, although if it was for his cultural ignorance or the mere sound of his voice, he couldn't be sure.

“Hush dear, you needn't worry your dark little curls over it.” Vivienne admonished, taking a perverse pleasure in belittling the man, especially since he had no real knowledge that she was doing it.

“In any case, I'm certain it will be a relief when you can hand the position over to someone more qualified.” Andrew continued, as though Thurston had never spoken at all.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the Inquisitor has no intention of resigning her post.” Josephine told him, wary of the possible explosion that could follow.

Andrew frowned at that. “Surely you don't need her as a figurehead? I'm told the breach has been sealed and her mark is no longer necessary. What purpose could she possibly still serve?”

“Aside from the remaining rifts still across Thedas?” Solas asked him quietly, his calm demeanor completely masking his contempt. Almost. “Although I would not demean her leadership by suggesting that is the only reason we follow her.”

“Follow her?” Thurston was blinking again. “I had thought she was just used as the face of the Inquisition, not an actual leader. She has no experience, no military expertise.”

“I would think that is where having a commander for her army would come in handily.” Cullen flashed a toothy grin at them.

“And what, pray tell, does she do while you command said army?” Andrew's frown had been replaced with a disaffected look, although Cullen could tell by the set of his shoulders that he was angry. Cole tugged lightly on the corner of his sleeve and Cullen leaned over, providing him his ear.

“He is very angry...resentment, hatred, never supposed to be this way strike her down where she will feel it most these fools could never understand. He wants to _hurt_ her.” Cole whispered urgently. Cullen nodded wordlessly, trying to think very loudly _Thank you, I understand._ Cole grinned at him like he thought that was funny, which Cullen would consider a good enough indication that his message had been received. “You don't have to shout.” the spirit added, confirming his success. Cullen chuckled.

Returning his attention to Andrew, he said, “She leads in the field, at the head of a very effective strike team, handling the most pressing issues personally.”

“So, not a figurehead then?” Andrew leaned back, steepling his fingers together as he seemed to consider the information. “My father will certainly find this information interesting. You will have to forgive our presumptions on the matter. She has never shown any capacity to lead before, nor any respect for responsibilities of any kind.” his tone had shifted, and Cullen could almost see the tactics in his head shift with it. He knew that he could not sweep in and steal her away now, so he was changing course, already forming some other plan. The ease with which he fluctuated set Cullen's nerves on edge. Andrew Trevelyan was dangerous.

“Oh, I'm _sure_ no offense was intended, my dear.” Vivienne's voice was liquid silk, sliding over her lips and into the conversation like a poisonous snake in soft grass, just the barest whisper of danger in an otherwise serene front. Cullen wanted to hold a parade in her honor.

“Naturally.” was all Andrew had to say, judiciously sipping his wine and watching her with cold eyes. Suddenly he turned to Solas, obviously seeking easier pray than the Iron Lady. “So, Solas, was it? How does a knife-ear find themselves in the upper echelons of the Inquisition?” the slur slid off his tongue as though it were the most innocent thing in the world. Andrew pretended not to notice everyone at the table stiffen, even as they could all be sure it was exactly the reaction that he had intended. Cullen saw Solas eyes flash angrily, his jaw set, but Cullen was not about to let this transgression slip by unaddressed. He set down his cutlery carefully, the tinkling of the metal against the plates bringing attention to himself. He let his calm demeanor drop, showing both the noblemen his sternest visage, one that he only used when berating soldiers for poor judgment calls.

“I will say this only once, so do take note. I expect you to conduct yourselves in an honorable fashion while you are guests within these walls. We will not suffer intolerance towards any of the people that are in our employ, and you would do well to find a more respectful manner of addressing our elven allies.” Cullen's voice was iron, cutting through much of the conversations at the surrounding tables. The hall around them quieted as people tried to listen in, waiting to see what would happen next.

Andrew's smile was as close to a sneer as Cullen had seen yet. “I was unaware pointing out his race would be so demeaning. My _sincerest_ apologies.”

“I believe it was the way you said it, my dear, not the fact itself.” Vivienne didn't meet the man's eyes, instead staring at her fingernails as though checking their status was of the utmost importance to her at the moment. “Perhaps in the Marches your culture isn't advanced enough to know a slur when you hear it, but we are close enough to Orlais now that you will have to learn better.” she blew on her fingers, dusting them off.

“Perhaps Josephine could spend some time informing you of our more complicated customs?” Leliana added, jumping in after the enchanter's lead. “I know it must be terribly hard for you to adjust to such complex ideas.”

Andrew looked ready to catch on fire. His face had turned an ugly shade of red around that self satisfied smirk he was willfully holding in place now. “That won't be necessary, but thank you.” he said, his teeth snapping together audibly at the end. Cullen relaxed, letting his amiable facade drop down again, his point thoroughly proven thanks to the wonderful women at the table. Cullen was going to send them all boxes of the most expensive chocolates he could buy, perhaps a tray of those tiny cakes that Leliana was so fond of.

Josephine cleared her throat, her smile strained with nerves. “I'm certain our guests understand our position now. If Master Solas has not taken any offense, then there is no harm done, yes?”

For a moment Solas seemed to stare the men down, and Cullen thought he might insist he had, indeed, taken offense. However, after what felt like an hour of tense silence, the elven apostate smiled easily at them all. “No lasting harm, no.” he said quietly, a low threat in the simple comment, a warning that next time would not be smoothed over so easily. “To answer your question, I arrived shortly after the explosion at the conclave, and have been working with Autumn since. It is at her behest that I remain part of her team.” Solas spread his hands in acquiescence, indicating it was clearly not up to him.

“She certainly seems to keep...interesting company.” Thurston murmured, picking absentmindedly at his lip. He looked to be a perfect mix of confusion and unease, aware that he was completely out of his depth among the others at the table. Cullen would feel sorry for him if it weren't for the fact that he was there to try and marry the love of his life. Or the fact that he was an ass who associated with asses, who seemed determined to prove to the world just how asinine they could be.

Cole tugged lightly at his sleeve again, and Cullen provided his ear once more. “He is afraid, worried about things that were promised, not sure if they are worth it, worth this. He doesn't think all the pieces of the puzzle fit together the same anymore, not sure if he can find his way out of the dark this time.” Cole's eyes rested on Thurston as he spoke. “ _She_ is not his prize.”

An interesting thought process, to say the least. What could he have been promised if not her hand in marriage? Did the Trevelyans have something else in store for him? Cullen wondered what exactly their game was. He sent another silent thought of gratitude to Cole again, this time trying not to think too loudly. Cole grinned again, amused at the action, but he said nothing about it.

“Well, I think I have had my fill of Inquisition business this evening.” Andrew said suddenly, his tone back to the calmly snide one he had affected earlier in the meal. “If you will all excuse me, I am ready to retire.” He stood, letting the chair scrape noisily against the floor. “Commander Cullen, I believe you are giving us a tour of the grounds tomorrow?”

Cullen gave him a wolfish grin. “Assuming that you are still interested, Sirrah Trevelyan.”

“Absolutely. I want to see everything. I need to be sure my dear sister is being kept safe, after all.” he added. Then he gave a half bow to those at the table, turned, and strode out of the hall towards his quarters, Thurston scrambling to follow on his heels.

The hall let out a collective sigh at their exit, a breath that had been held by everyone present rushing out at once.

“Vivienne, I could buy you an estate after that performance.” Cullen turned to her, giving her a heartfelt smile. She returned it, honest warmth on her face.

“My dear, you could not afford my tastes.”

“Cullen, that man is planning something. Be wary of what you show him in this tour tomorrow.” Solas’ brow furrowed as he stared at the place where the men had disappeared through the door.

“Actually, I was thinking I would show him everything, just like he asked.” Cullen replied lightly, unable to keep the mirth out of his voice.

Josephine's jaw had fallen open at his admission. “What? Are you mad?”

“Come on, let's take this to the war room and I can explain. Vivienne, Solas, Cole, would you mind joining us for this meeting? And could someone send for Sera and Blackwall? It might be best they attend as well.”

A collection of nods were his answer, and they stood to head into the privacy the war room could afford them, where no prying ears would overhear his plan.

***

Solas found himself more amused by the night's events than he could have possibly imagined just a scant few hours before. Not only had Cullen handled the situation with aplomb, he had somehow managed to plan a way to gain a tactical advantage over the men while he had done so. It was hard not to admire the man's fervor, and Solas had been particularly touched when the Commander had stuck up for the elven people so staunchly. Now, as they all crowded into the war room, shutting the door and latching it so the magical seals would take effect, blocking their words from escaping to unwanted ears, he found himself nearly giddy with anticipation to find out what exactly their Commander had in store. _These_ were the type of political machinations Solas could thoroughly enjoy.

“So, Commander, are you going to tell us what you have planned or just smirk at us the entire night?” Leliana asked him, leaning against the table and crossing her arms. Her blue eyes were alight with excitement, a sentiment that was spread over the rest of the room. The idea of being able to do something other than sit around idle while their guests irritated everyone was a welcome notion to them all.

Cullen grinned from ear to ear, a roguish expression overtaking his features and making him look several years younger. “Well, these men have spent the entire visit trying to goad one of us into doing something rash or stupid, so I thought it might be high time to return the favor.”

“You want to goad them into a fight?” Josephine looked scandalized, a hand flying to the base of her throat as though ready to clutch a string of pearls in affront.

Cole beamed at them all. “Traps, traps to help, to stop the problem from becoming sharp.”

Solas suddenly felt like he could understand the Commander's idea. “No, Lady Montilyet. He does not wish to provoke a fight, he wishes to provoke their _move_.” Solas gave the man a warm smile, enjoying this idea immensely. By the grin on Leliana's face, he could tell that she was catching on as well.

“Oh, that sounds intriguing, Commander.” the spymaster said.

“Yes! It's like in chess, when you want to trap you're opponent, you let them think they're winning for awhile, let them make all the moves while you plan around them. Then, just when they think they've won, you swoop in, make your own moves, and take the game before they even know what hit them.” Cullen explained.

“So...what, you want I should throw chess pieces at him?” Sera asked impertinently, her patience for subtlety just as short as it always was.

There was a collective eye roll from most present before Cullen continued. “Look, we know they are up to no good. Anybody with even half a brain could see that. They obviously mean us, and Autumn, harm in more ways than just trying to attach her to that bogfisher Thurston.” Sera snorted out a giggle at the description of the man. “So I say we feign ignorance, let them think we aren't on to them. I can show them every inch of Skyhold tomorrow, every nook and cranny, and convince them I'm doing it to try and impress them, act the show off. That will give them the opportunity to come up with a way to enact whatever plan they have.”

“Would it not be more prudent to keep them from planning? Would not we wish that they _not_ have time to successfully plot mischief?” Josephine asked.

“Maybe, but then they might never make a move, and get away. Better to remove the criminals than let them leave and come back later with something worse.” Blackwall nodded, impressed.

“How ever will we be able to see their plan coming?” Vivienne asked, her expression tinged with excited anticipation.

Cullen clapped a hand on Cole's shoulder, regarding him as if he were a proud father. “That's where Cole will come in. He’ll stick with me for the whole tour, listening into their thoughts, and he can clue me in when something changes or when he gets an idea of what their plans are.”

Solas laughed, the action feeling like a warm light spreading through his chest. “Commander, that is impressively clever.” Cullen gave him a brief nod in gratification for the comment.

“Yeah, good plan. How do I get to play? I don't want to let floppy hat have all the fun, eh?” Sera seemed far more eager now that she was beginning to understand the idea.

“Well, as with any good chess play, you have to have all your pieces ready for action.” Cullen pressed his hands flat on the table, leaning forward slightly. “Cole will be with me. Sera, I want you to shadow the tour as well, but stay out of sight. _Do not let them see you_ , and have your bow ready in case anything unexpected happens. You are our safety net, should they decide to attack outright for some reason. Blackwall, I want this tour to take as long as possible so we can give Cole every possible opportunity to pick up the information we need, so you are to interrupt us throughout, dragging the process out over the course of the day. Vivienne and Solas, I want you to keep the areas that we are heading to clear of all nonessential personnel. Make sure the places aren't empty, because that could tip them off, but only let the most trusted of our people stay. I don't want green recruits mucking this up by staring openly or something else equally stupid. Clearing out the areas will also have the added benefit of reducing the amount of noise Cole has to sift through to hear our targets.” Cullen finished, looking to them all for approval or input.

“It is a good plan, but will they not be suspicious of Cole's presence the entire time?” Leliana asked.

“Not at all. If they ask, which surely they will at some point, I can say Autumn often leaves Cole behind to watch over me, feeling like the assassin being at my side could protect me, should any danger arise.” Cullen's grin had a predatory quality to it at this point, and Solas thought this was perhaps the most brilliant aspect of all.

“Perfect. Leading them to ask as to the nature of your relationship with her, to question why she would leave a personal body guard for you above all the advisors. Once they know, you appear as the jealous lover trying to show off the prowess of the Inquisition as a show of dominance, nothing more. They believe you are the possessive brute, and are none the wiser to our true intentions.” Solas was impressed.

“Commander, if I didn't know better, I would say you were a _master_ of the game.” Vivienne said, her grin as wolfish as his own.

“My lady, I would deny it to my grave.” Cullen replied in mock solemnity, although he seemed inordinately proud of the praise.

“This should be grand!” Sera called, a whoop escaping her lips as she slapped her knee.

Solas could not have agreed more.

 

 


	46. Secondhand Arousal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which letters are sent discussing topical things.

_My dear Commander,_

_I think I am getting secondhand arousal at the idea of you defending our Inquisitor's honor so profusely, especially after the effect such news has on her. I certainly hope we will be getting more thorough details upon our return._

_Kisses,_

_Dorian_

 

_Dorian,_

_That is profoundly unnerving._

_-Cullen_

_****** _

_Sister,_

_No deaths yet? Sounds awfully boring. The Tevinter says if anything of note were happening there would have been at least three murders by now. If my brother is still there when I return I shall be sorely disappointed, especially if I have to behead him myself. Scratch that, beheading him sounds like fun, but I would still be disappointed I had to see him._

_I REALLY need to know more details about what's happening. You are such a tease! I will likely relapse from the stress of not knowing._

_The Author is practically frothing at the mouth in anticipation of your notes. I think he's starting to get on the Seeker's nerves about it all, she very nearly punched him the other day, but Bull hoisted her over his head until she calmed down. This took a surprising amount of time. Apparently lifting the Seeker into the air only enrages her further. Who knew?_

_Also, I want a plaque made that says “Flaming Scourge”, to be hung outside the Seeker's room immediately. She picked up the nickname here, and I think she is rather fond of it._

_Try not to have all the fun without me._

_-Hummingbird_

 

_Hummingbird,_

_I don't think I have words to describe just how amazing our Commander was this evening. You would have been proud._

_No one has been killed yet, unless you count your fiancee and brother's dignity as a casualty. Our Iron Lady saw to it's demise quite thoroughly._

_Skyhold's sweetest assassin would have made you proud, as well. He is helping out our Commander quite effectively. He seems to be enjoying himself, and has taken an immense dislike to your brother._

_We have quite a day planned tomorrow, but I will try to keep you updated if anything happens._

_Tell the Author I have, indeed, been taking notes for him to use later. It's BRILLIANT._

_-Sister_

_**_

(this letter is written in a child like scrawl, the words obviously having been placed upon the page with the care of an unpracticed hand)

_Autumn,_

_Cullen is helping me write this. I wanted to say hello. Solas has been teaching me the words to do this. I don't know if I understand it very well but Cullen says you will hear this like a thought._

_I don't like your brother. He is a bad man. I am helping to keep the dark away._

_Everyone misses you._

_Love,_

_Cole_

 

_Cole,_

_Thank you for the letter! It was very nice to hear from you. I didn't know Solas was teaching you to write. You should send letters more often when I am away._ (Autumn has drawn a picture of a crow carrying a letter that says “from Cole” on it, with hearts floating around the bird).

_Keep Cullen safe for me, and don't let Sera get into any trouble._

_Love,_

_Autumn_

_**_

_Autumn,_

_I hope everything is well with you in the Emprise. Things are going better than expected here, so I don't want you to worry._

_I hope you don't mind the letter from Cole. He said he missed you, and I thought it might make him feel better. I'm not sure how well he understands how letters work, but after we sent the crow he did seem to feel better._

_I'm sorry to say Madame de Fer was not very nice to your brother and fiancee tonight. I don't think they care for us very much. Also, I may have insinuated that you have bitten me. It's a long story._

_I miss you. Things just aren't the same around here when you're not bounding into my office at random moments throughout the day to insist I take a break. Even when I take a break, it is not NEARLY as entertaining as when you're there to take them with me. There's also no one here to go on nonsensical rants about my smirking any longer. The expression might grow out of control if left unchecked._

_So far the test dummies have not revolted in Cassandra's absences, but I think I caught one acting suspicious the other day. I will have my men monitor the situation. Give my regards to your team, and let them know Josephine is granting them all a round on the house upon your return._

_I love you. Stay safe, get better, and come back to me as soon as possible._

_Love,_

_Cullen_

 

_Cullen,_

_That damn smirk was out of control since the day I met you. Just for its impertinence I am kissing the stuffed druffalo again. So there!_

_The letter from Cole was an adorable surprise, thank you for helping him with it. I'm glad you two are getting along so well._

_Remind me to give Vivienne a hug when I get back, it sounds like she's earned it._

_Why in the Maker's name were you talking about who I have bitten with my brother? It is so unfair that I am missing everything._

_I miss you too. Terribly. I keep asking our healer friend when I can return home. I think I'm starting to get on his nerves, although L. seems to find that hilarious. It is horribly boring here, which is apparently important to the healing process. Somehow. At least they let me stay awake now, although unfortunately that just gives me more time to miss you._

_I mentioned to Cassandra that the practice dummies are acting suspiciously. She didn't seem to care for the joke much after I explained it, but everyone else found it quite uproarious. The announcement of free drinks when we get home improved morale even further, although Bull is insisting that you join us, so be prepared for that. Drinking with Bull requires a mental fortitude not many people anticipate._

_I love you too. I couldn't possibly get into any trouble trapped in this bed, I am trying my damndest to get better, and I cannot wait to get back to you._

_Keep yourself safe, don't let my family get to you. Kick my fiancee in the head._

_Love,_

_Autumn_

_****** _

_Commander,_

_I would appreciate it if you would keep me out of your pillow talk in the future._

_If I sigh in exasperation too much it is because people like YOU do not take things seriously enough. I am disappointed that you are encouraging such behavior in the Inquisitor._

_And perhaps if I were not the only one who utilizes the practice dummies she would not be in this situation. I think you should make more training mandatory._

_-Cassandra Pentaghast_

_**_

_Curly,_

_When we get back you might want to run from the Seeker. She is NOT happy with you._

_Also, A. wants me to let you know that “your woman” is exasperating him, and you should keep her in line._

_His words, not mine, please don't send assassins after the messenger._

_Okay, now he is also writing you a letter. Have fun with that._

_-Varric_

_**_

_Ser Commander Noodlehead,_

_It might be prudent for you to inform your lover that packing her bed with ice to drop her temperature will not trick me into thinking her fever has cleared and she is “all better now”. She will not listen to me, or anyone else here for that matter. Perhaps you can talk some sense into her._

_Sincerely,_

_a very, very tired healer_

 


	47. Salamanders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Andrew is given a tour.

Cullen tossed the stack of letters onto the desk, shaking his head even while he grinned at their contents. It was a miracle that the Emprise du Lion had not been torn apart by the rambunctious group currently stuck there. Autumn was driving them all mad with her frustration, Maker knew she made a terrible patient. He wasn't without sympathy, after all being bedridden for weeks would probably bother just about anyone, let alone the hyperactive Inquisitor, but the last letter from Anders concerned him. He would indeed have to send a stern word about her attempts to return home before it was safe for her to travel. It wouldn't do anyone any good if she arrived home only to be worse off than when she started.

Besides that, he had business to take care of before he could welcome her back into his embrace. He would _not_ have her brother and fiancee left as loose ends to worry her. The next time he saw her he wanted to wrap her up in his arms and inform her that her family would never bother her again. At least, that was his goal, and if anything could be said of Cullen Stanton Rutherford, he was certainly goal oriented.

He finished dressing in his armor, the metal polished to a fine sheen, pauldrons “fluffed” for added effect - a suggestion of Vivienne's that Cullen hadn't bothered to protest. Glancing in his mirror, he could definitely say that he looked the part of a puffed up, territorial lover. Not that the image was much of a lie, he _was_ being territorial. He was perhaps just slightly more justified in his actions than the average man, however.

“Proud and roaring, guarding and protecting. You're stronger when you fight for her.” Cole told him, the pale blonde boy materializing next to him. Cullen smiled warmly at him.

“Thank you. I think.”

Cole grinned. “They are waiting in the hall. Impatient, angry, insulted. Are we late, Cullen?”

“Yes, but we've done it on purpose. The angrier I make them the more likely they'll slip up.” Cullen finished brushing his curly hair into submission and then turned and opened the door, holding it for Cole to walk through first. “Remember, don't talk directly to them unless I say it's okay.” he warned.

“I won't. Silent, shadow, spying in the dark.” he promised, his pale blue eyes intense with focus.

They walked together across the battlements, cutting through Solas solar and into the great hall, which was just clearing out of the last of the early risers eating their breakfast, still too early for the larger rush of people to have entered. They had very deliberately scheduled this act of hospitality at the most inhospitable hour that they could manage. He spotted Andrew and Thurston standing by the door to Josephine's office, chatting at her with thinly veiled contempt on their faces. Andrew had his arms crossed, and was tapping a toe with rhythmic impatience, obviously wanting to get on with the tour. Cullen smirked quietly to himself before they noticed the approaching escort. Today might be more fun than he could have anticipated a few days ago.

“Gentlemen, good morning. I hope all is well with you on this fine day.” Cullen called boisterously, giving them both an amiable smile.

“Was today a special occasion, Commander, or are you just that lazy that you sleep in while your guests are kept waiting?” Andrew snapped, letting his annoyance get the better of him.

Cullen remained outwardly unperturbed. “My deepest apologies to both of you, I had to answer a string of letters from Autumn and her associates.”

“It could not have waited?” Thurston asked, sounding bored.

“Making the Inquisitor wait is perhaps not the wisest course of action.” Josephine interjected, smiling at Cullen warmly. “Gentlemen, as your guide has arrived, you must excuse me, I have a great deal of work to attend to today. I hope you enjoy your tour.” she bowed politely and slipped through the door back into her office, no doubt to inform Leliana that their operation was beginning. Cullen was positive that the spymaster was going to have her own people tailing them today, if not for the sake of protection then at the very least to continue gathering information for Varric, who would never forgive her if she left anything out. Cullen looked forward to reading the book that would be born from this particular episode in their lives.

“My sister certainly has you all kept in line.” Andrew drawled, his annoyance quickly replaced with his bored, disaffected demeanor. Cullen wondered if the front actually worked on anyone, or if the man did it more for his own benefit than anything else. He wouldn't be surprised if _most_ of the things Andrew Trevelyan did were for his own benefit.

“It's amazing what mutual respect can accomplish.” Cullen replied, somehow managing to keep his fac straight. “At any rate, gentlemen, I thought we might start with the armory and blacksmithing station. We call it the Undercroft...”

***

“Are you certain you want to remain, Harrit?” Solas asked the man, whose mustache was a-quiver with the morning's excitement. Vivienne and himself had only just finished clearing out all of the assistants and workers the blacksmith and arcanist generally kept around, and had explained what was going on to Dagna and Harrit. Dagna seemed beside herself with gleeful anticipation, while Harrit was steadfastly refusing to leave.

“I'll not leave the arcanist to suffer alone.” Harrit grumbled.

“Awe, Harrit, that's so-”

“Nothin', it's nothin'.” the blacksmith shuffled his feet.

“Remember, you must give no indication of the plan. Lady Nightingale has assured us anyone who interferes will be dealt with severely.” Vivienne warned.

“I understand.” Harrit told her.

“ _Oh_ , I love this!” Dagna cried. “Should I wear a disguise? Would that be weird? That _would_ be weird.” The three of them stared at her, aghast at the idea. Solas was beginning to think that the arcanist would ruin it for them entirely before the day had even begun. “Right, act natural. I got it, I can handle this I promise. Probably. I should go put away the salamanders. Wouldn’t want anything to go _boom_!” she clapped her hands together and scurried off to one of tables, carefully lifting jars of leaping, orange creatures and carrying them into a closet to their left.

Vivienne shook her head and shrugged her shoulders at Solas, relenting. “It will have to do. We have to go before they arrive.”

Solas followed her, and they slipped out of the Undercroft and into the alcove they would hide in under the stairs until the tour passed by.

“Should we stay and make sure everything goes smoothly?” Vivienne asked him, uncomfortable with being relegated to the back of the action.

“We cannot. If we stay we might not have time to clear the next area, which I believe is the library.” he told her, wishing that were not the case.

Vivienne only nodded before they had to fall silent as footsteps echoed heavily above them.

***

Cullen watched as Harrit politely explained their capabilities to the two noblemen. Thurston looked impressed in spite of himself, although the extent of their abilities only seemed to irritate Andrew, which was no surprise.

“And what exactly does this hideous contraption do?” Andrew asked, stopping to stand in front of one of Dagna's machines, a particularly gruesome construction with a withered head placed at its top.

“Oh, that's for channeling the confluence of magical energies through the threads of...well, I mean, it's for master crafting.” Dagna told him cheerfully.

Thurston blinked at her. “You can make master crafts?”

“Of course! All it takes is an abundance of knowledge, a few rare materials, and just a pinch of luck. Well, maybe a lot of luck for most people, but that's what I'm here for, that extra push.” she beamed at them.

“Rare materials? The Inquisition has access to materials of high enough quality for master crafting?” Andrew’s eyebrow twitched upward a fraction of a centimeter.

“Yep, we keep a little of everything on hand. Most of it's dangerous, so we keep it locked away down here where me and ol' Harrit can keep an eye on everything.” she winked at Harrit and he groaned.

“Dangerous?” Thurston folded into himself, as though afraid the walls were about to leap out at him.

“Yeah, lots of stuff used for enchantments, and all the good materials, can be unstable. Lots of explosives. Like, so many...wow, a lot of explosive stuff is down here, now that I think about it.” she tapped a finger against her mouth as she considered this fact. Then, after she noticed Thurston's terrified expression, she added, “Oh, but don't worry. We keep it all under wraps. I mean, that would be really bad if we didn't, right? The whole tower could come down, maybe even blow a hole in the mountainside. While that would be really impressive to see, I'm pretty sure the Inquisitor would _not_ approve.” her enthusiasm was endless.

Cullen smiled wryly at her. “Perhaps listing the catastrophes that might befall them is not the most gracious way to host our guests?”

“Ah, yes, right, sorry Commander. I promise there's nothing to worry about!” she bobbed her head for emphasis.

Cole tugged on Cullen's sleeve as Andrew and Thurston were distracted by Dagna launching into an explanation of enchanting that Cullen was positive no one in the room but her actually understood. Cullen leaned over to provide his ear.

“He paid attention. To the danger, he took note, noticed, kept it safe for later.” Cole whispered.

Cullen nodded briefly, thanking him internally again, straightening to face their charges before they noticed the exchange. Dagna had just finished her diatribe, and to her credit only looked somewhat crestfallen at their completely confused reaction.

“Shall we proceed, gentlemen?” Cullen asked, holding out his arm to indicate that they head out the door and back up the stairs. The men obliged, and they all trekked out of the Undercroft.

***

Sera watched from the shadows of the doorway that led to the library as Blackwall jogged up to the procession, face red with exertion. She would think a man who went out into the field so often would be used to physical activity, but somehow he always ended up ruddy and heaving no matter how often he got exercise. The man was a stout warrior, but running was his nemesis.

She couldn't hear the conversation, but she saw Sir Hates the World get that pinched look on his face again that said he was annoyed. She wondered if there was anything that _didn’t_ annoy the man. Probably his own face, that was it. He was a useless noble if Sera had ever seen one, and definitely deserved everything he had coming to him for messing with the Inquisition.

Captain Stupid Curls wasn't much better. Probably spent all his time torturing servants to make himself feel bigger. What was it with so many nobles being prigs and cunts?

Whatever Blackwall had come up with was working, Cullen had asked the men to sit at a table while he looked over some papers that the warden had handed to them. Sera relaxed her shoulders a little bit, knowing she would have a few minutes before they started moving again. At least she would if Blackwall had done a good job, which he was usually capable of doing any other time they relied on him. As long as they didn’t ask him to run.

The muffled argument between Solas and Vivienne drifted down from the library above her. She strained her ears, trying to hear what they were saying.

“We're supposed to give them opportunity to plan, my dear, not hand over all of our secrets.” Vivienne was saying. Solas retorted something Sera couldn't quite make out, maybe something about clutter and privacy, then Vivienne added, “I'm sure Altus Pavus will understand. He may even appreciate we hid it from them, especially if this plan falls through and we _don’t_ catch them.”

Sera crept towards the middle of the solar, taking her eyes off the targets for the moment. “Oy! Quit fighting and get a move on it!” she whispered loudly, the raspy sound carrying up through the chamber and silencing the pair above. Two heads poked over the side of the railing, staring down at her.

“What are you doing? You're supposed to be watching them!” Vivienne scolded.

“And _you’re_ supposed to hurry!” Sera rejoined.

“Dorian left out a bunch of personal letters, and we cannot come to an accord over whether we should move them or not.” Solas explained.

“We can't just leave them out -” Vivienne began.

“We cannot just root around in his things -”

“Shut it both of you! Just stuff it under the bloody cushions or something!” she ordered. The mages looked at each other, and she could tell they both shrugged before they ducked back out of sight.

Sera shook her head as she moved back to her post to check on the scene in the great hall. Not much had changed, although Captain Stupid Curls and Sir Hates the World were now conversing quietly between themselves. Whispering evil secrets, no doubt. Cole was paying really close attention to them, so she didn't concern herself too much. Whatever they were talking about, the spirit thing would certainly remember if it was important.

Cullen handed the papers back to Blackwall with a flourish and a great sigh of exasperation, then turned back to the jackholes at the table, saying something to them that was probably about moving on because they stood up and started moving towards the library again. Sera ducked out of the door and moved to her next vantage point, her silent feet making no noise as she faded into the shadows.

***

Solas and Vivienne both leaned against the door they had rushed out of, taking a brief moment to catch their breath. They had only just made it to the top of the tower in time to avoid Cullen and their guests entrance below, having wasted too much time wondering if they should hide Dorian's personal things. Solas had known the man was disorganized, but he didn't think that he actually left private documents strewn about the nook that he occupied while home. He would have to have a word with him when he saw him next. Dorian probably never expected to be away from home for so long, but never the less he should consider that someone might get a hold of them and use them against him. The assassins that had gotten in after Bull had gone Tal-Vashoth were proof enough that Leliana couldn't keep _every_ undesirable out of Skyhold. Then again, it was always possible that the spymaster had allowed the men to get in, thinking Bull would need the ceremony while being sure that he would be able to handle himself against them. It was a risk, but Solas wouldn't put it past her to take it if she thought it was best for Bull.

“This is entirely too much running about for my tastes.” Vivienne huffed, looking peeved.

“Perhaps next time you can play the jealous lover and Cullen can clear out the rooms ahead of you.” Solas quipped, a small smile spreading across his lips.

Her laugh was breathless. “Indeed. Sera could take over distractions and Blackwall could be the backup. A rather complicated game of musical chairs, don't you think?”

Solas grimaced at the idea. “Can you imagine _Sera_ being responsible for distractions?”

“I can imagine it would involve a great many bees.”

“Possibly fire.”

“Probably _both_.”

The pair chuckled together before pushing off the wall and heading down the outside stairs towards the battlements. The next area of the tour would be the upper courtyard, cutting through that towards the dungeons, which were thankfully quite empty at the moment.

***

Leliana watched as Blackwall slipped in through the door, face red and breath coming out in great huffs. She shared a brief glance with Josephine over his state.

“You are out in the field all of the time, how can you be out of breath already?” the diplomat asked him cheekily, shaking her head.

“Hey, give me a sword and I can swing it with the best of them. Running around this bloody castle is _not_ the same as combat.” he said, mumbling something about running being evil under his breath.

Leliana rolled her eyes at the pair of them. “Never mind that, how did it go?”

“Trevelyan looks right pissed, de Carrac looks confused, Rutherford looks smug. Distraction worked well, I think. What's next?”

“Next stopping point for you is going to be the dungeons. They are empty now, but you are going to bring in someone to toss in a cell for a bit.” Leliana told him as she walked to the door to poke her head out and let the guard know that it was time.

“You have prisoners just lying around, waiting?” Blackwall's eyebrow rose with amusement.

“Not a real prisoner, dolt. One of my agents is going to play the part. Story will be we caught him trying to pilfer from the Inquisition's lyrium supplies.” she replied archly.

“Ah, figures. You ladies always think of everything.” he smiled at them, his beard shifting with the movement.

The door to the room opened and a very sheepish looking man walked in, dressed in overly worn leathers that bore no Inquisition colors.

“My...my ladies, ser Blackwall.” he bowed low to them all, fidgeting with his hands.

“Jim.” Leliana greeted him coldly. Then she turned to face Blackwall. “Alright, hit him.”

“What?!” Blackwall cried incredulously.

Leliana rolled her eyes again. She should have seen this reaction coming. “He has to look like he was caught doing something wrong and put up a fight. A black eye or split lip should do nicely, yes? Hit. Him.”

“I'm not punching one of our own men!” he bristled in indignation.

“It's alright, ser. It's my punishment.” Jim said, shaking like a cold, naked nug.

“For what?” Blackwall was eying him suspiciously now.

“He lost a letter that was supposed to be delivered this morning.” Josephine explained. “The missive was found, thankfully, but Leliana feels disciplinary action is necessary.”

Blackwall looked at the lad, then shrugged and squared away, readying the strike. He hesitated, standing there poised to throw the punch but not actually doing it, staring at Jim like he was some kind of lost puppy while the man tried to puff out his chest and prepare for the blow.

“Oh for Andraste's sake...” Leliana muttered, striding over and throwing a vicious right hook straight at Jim's face. Nobody had seen it coming, so Jim didn't even have time to flinch before her fist connected with the side of his jaw, knocking him flat onto his back.

Blackwall whistled appreciatively. “My lady, where'd you learn to hit like that?”

Leliana grinned at him as Jim moaned on the ground. “Back when we were still traveling with Melody – the Hero of Ferelden – Sten used to teach me how to fight unarmed if I bribed him with cookies.

“Remind me never to piss you off.” Blackwall told her.

“You need a reminder for that?” Josephine drawled, laughing.

“Alright then, Jim. Let's go meet up with our friends in the dungeon.” Blackwall said, hauling the man to his feet. His face was already bruising, his bottom lip split open and leaking blood. He grinned all the same, looking quite proud of himself.

“Yes sir. I can't wait to write home and tell them I was punched by the hand of the divine!”

Everyone laughed about that comment as he was hauled out of the room.

 


	48. The Plan Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the tour is concluded with Cole doing a good job.

The day had gone by without a hitch. They had toured most of the castle, and Andrew and Thurston were none the wiser to their plan, according to Cole. Cullen found himself frustrated nonetheless, because despite their subterfuge they still had no inkling of what the men might be planning or how they could stop it. The men had taken mental note of several spots throughout the day – the Undercroft, the opening in the back of the dungeons, the location of the lyrium stored for the mages and templars on staff – but Cole was unable to tell _why_ they were noticing them, or what they intended to do with the information.

Not only that, but Andrew had been surprisingly resistant to taking the bait about the nature of Cullen's relationship with Autumn, which rankled Cullen deeply. Worse was that he knew that was exactly _why_ Andrew wasn't saying anything. He no doubt already knew everything that he needed to know, and specifically didn't ask just to get under Cullen's skin. Cullen couldn't decide if he was more disappointed over the fact that he couldn't announce their status, or that being unable to do so was having the precise effect Andrew wanted it to have.

They were running out of time for all of it, however. It was late afternoon, the sun sinking towards the lip of the mountain range as it prepared for its lazy descent, the sky just beginning to be tinged with the orange of what would be a magnificent sunset. The only place that they had left to show off was the training grounds, the last stop and the most occupied of them all, the schemers having decided that keeping this area as crowded as possible would have a better effect than clearing it out. In fact, as Cullen surveyed the area, he was sure Vivienne and Solas had likely dragged extra people out to make it even more crowded than usual. It served to make the Inquisition seem full of very dedicated soldiers who spent all of their time training rather than hanging around the keep. It worried him now, however. Would the crowd keep Cole from being able to hear properly? It was their last chance to learn anything, and he fretted that if they didn't figure it out today they wouldn't get another opportunity.

At least if the day ended with no useful information he could still take some satisfaction in the fact that Andrew was barely suppressing his own rage. Being interrupted all day by Blackwall with various – and rather clever – emergencies had set the man on edge. Adding that to the fact that Thurston seemed to be beyond impressed with the Inquisition and half ready to pledge himself to their cause, and Andrew seemed livid underneath his carefully constructed boredom.

“So Commander, exactly how many troops does the Inquisition have under its control?” Thurston asked politely, having long since dropped any negative attitude that Andrew had impressed upon him.

“A few hundred are stationed in Skyhold at any given time, but we have far more that work out in the field. The keeps that Autumn has captured for us house the additional bulk of our forces.” Cullen told him, although he watched Andrew out of the corner of his eye, who had rolled his eyes when he thought no one was looking.

“You may have numbers, but you surely cannot have any decent combat abilities if my sister leaves a young boy to guard you.” Andrew snapped, gesturing at Cole who blinked at him with placid innocence.

Cullen was about to reply when Cole tugged at his sleeve.

“Why does he think he can fight me if he has never fought before?” the spirit whispered in his ear. Cullen couldn't help but laugh, nodding his head towards the men to indicate that Cole repeat his question out loud. Cole did so, and granted them all the great satisfaction of watching Andrew's face turn purple.

“I've trained with some of the best templars in the Free Marches!” he cried, hands balling into fists. Cullen almost snorted, knowing full well that couldn't possibly be true. The best templars in the Free Marches had never even heard of Andrew Trevelyan, let alone trained him. In fact, the best templars in the Free Marches had followed Cullen when he left Kirkwall, and were members of the Inquisition now. He was tempted to point out this fact to the man, but held his tongue on the matter.

“If you are up to the challenge, you could certainly spar with him. I'm sure Cole wouldn't mind the practice.” Cullen said instead, unable to resist goading him.

“It would hardly be chivalrous to fight some _boy_.” he replied, but his voice shook, betraying his doubt on the matter.

“He's scared.” Cole spoke just loud enough to be overheard.

“Fine, if you are to question my nerves, so be it. Let's get on with it.” Andrew growled, stomping over to an empty sparring ring and arming himself with some of the practice equipment.

_Cole, don't take him out too quickly. Try to listen in while you fight._ Cullen thought, hoping Cole would get the message. He saw him give a tiny nod before he grabbed a pair of daggers for himself from the equipment, forgoing any armor. Cullen knew that he wouldn't need it.

“Why _do_ you have a bodyguard? I didn't notice any of the other leaders being guarded so.” Thurston asked, leaning against the fence as he watched the two prepare for the match. “You certainly don't appear to need the extra protection.”

“She is a touch more protective of me since we started our relationship together.” Cullen admitted, the rush of satisfaction at finally being able to say it out loud entirely too gratifying. He watched as Thurston's eyes went wide and a tremor passed through him. He could see the moment the dim witted man decided that he had definitely bitten off more than he could chew with this marriage arrangement.

“Oh.” was all he managed to squeak before falling silent for several seconds. “Andrew knew that already, didn't he?” his voice was quiet, defeated.

“Probably.” Cullen gave him an honest answer. He was clearly just a pawn to the Trevelyans, a man too stupid to be able to see all the downsides to being in an arranged marriage with the leader of the Inquisition. He couldn't sympathize with him, not completely, but there was something just sad enough in his story to be worth an ounce of pity. But just an ounce.

Andrew and Cole seemed ready to get started, and stood facing each other across the ring. Andrew had grabbed a sword, shield, and armed himself in the heavy leather padding that they kept for just such instances as this. Cole merely held up the two dulled daggers he had picked out, still dressed in only the thin, dusty leather outfit he always wore. In truth, Cole's slim frame looked a poor match against the other man's bulk, but Cullen knew better. He had never seen the boy fight personally, but he had heard enough stories recounted by the others to know that the assassin was brutally efficient in his fighting technique. Andrew might be better armed, but he was far, far outmatched.

With a loud cry the lesser Trevelyan lunged forward, putting all his weight behind the swing. Cullen wasn't even sure what he was hoping to accomplish with the act. It was a poor tactic to catch an opponent off guard, and wouldn't have a chance to hit a lighter, faster rogue. Cole deftly dodged, stepping to the side almost nonchalantly and letting the other man stumble past him. They turned to face each other again, on opposite ends of the ring than they had started. Cole cocked his head quizzically at the man, probably listening to something in his head. Whatever was there made Cole's expression darken, but he made no move to strike, merely waited, poised to move at a moment’s notice whenever Andrew would make another attack.

Andrew started circling around the ring, watching Cole carefully. His shoulders were tensed and a bead of sweat formed on his temple, gathering there and slowly sliding down the side of his face. He looked like he was about to leap forward again when he suddenly spun, gathering his shield in his arm and using the momentum from the spin to send if flying towards Cole with alarming force.

Cole wasn't even there anymore, and the metal soared harmlessly over the side of the fence, skidding to a stop some distance away. Andrew cried out as Cole materialized behind him, rapping him sharply on the back of the head and sending him stumbling forward, pitching onto his knees in the dirt. Andrew scrambled to get back on his feet, and as soon as he did Cole was around at his side, bashing the hilt of his dagger into the man's ribs in the blink of an eye and sending him careening into the fence. Andrew hit the fence post roughly and toppled over onto the ground. Cole was immediately there on top of him, heel grinding in between his shoulder blades as he knelt down and held the practice dagger against his throat.

“I yield.” Andrew ground out between gritted teeth, his breath coming out heavily through his nose and sending dirt and grit flying up into his face. Cole hopped off of him, setting the daggers down carefully with the rest of the equipment before moving to stand by Cullen's side again. Andrew lifted himself off the ground, practically ripping of the leather padding and tossing it savagely away. “Commander, thank you for the tour but I think I have seen quite enough for today.” he spat, launching himself over the fence of the ring and stalking off towards his quarters.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Commander Cullen.” Thurston said sullenly, scurrying to follow Andrew's hasty retreat. Cullen frowned as he watched them go, not sure if he should be laughing at the spectacle or disheartened that the day was over. He was interrupted by Cole gripping his elbow so tightly that he threatened to tear the fabric of his thick coat.

“I _know_.” he said reverently, eyes wide with whatever knowledge he had gleaned.

Cullen smiled at him and picked him up in a giant hug, unable to resist, trusting that the information that he had was what they had been hoping for all day. Cole laughed in surprise, his face splitting into a huge grin as he was set back down. “Come on, lets get to the war room and you can tell us what you know.” Cullen wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulders as he led him away, up the stairs and back into the keep.

*******

The group gathered in the war room, the air filled with the electric charge of excitement after word had spread that Cole had something to share. The grins plastered on every face there were a symbol of victory, of a plan laid out that had gotten results. They would be able to teach these bastards a lesson after a day of running around holding everything together, and that payoff was going to be a sweet reward they didn't often see in their line of work.

Cullen gestured for Cole to speak, now that everyone was there and the door was securely sealed.

“Small, red, and angry, package placed to make it sharp...in the shadows where the dwarf said danger rests, protected but not well enough. Slip in slip out in the dead of night, charged and left, safely away before they ever know.” Cole told them, chest swelling with pride as though it made all the sense in the world. For a moment there was a very pregnant expanse of silence in the room as they all stared at him, dumbstruck.

The sound of Sera's palm slapping against her forehead dispelled the moment.

“Of _course_ it's only a riddle. I don't know why I expected anything more.” Vivienne sighed heavily, her posture dipping for in defeat.

Cullen and Solas exchanged a glance as he tried to work out what the boy said. It wasn't _nothing_ , they just didn't understand it. If Cullen could just fit the pieces of what he said together...

“Cole, when you say 'a package to make it sharp', do you mean that he's going to leave something dangerous here?” Solas asked him, obviously trying to unravel the mystery as well.

“Yes, something...red and angry, with the song twisted. It sings to him at night, a light in the shadows that is darker than the dark.” Cole replied.

“Red lyrium, perhaps?” Leliana offered.

“We do have many reports that the substance 'sings' to people.” Josephine said as she wrote something down on her clipboard, apparently feeling that taking notes as they tried to figure it out would help. Then again, there never seemed to be a situation that Josephine didn’t think taking notes would help.

“Oy, didn't I hear Dagna go on for like an hour about explosives in the Underthingy?” Sera offered.

“Hm, yes, the 'place where the dwarf said danger rests'.” Vivienne rested her chin against her enclosed fist. “Is that right, Cole?” He nodded enthusiastically.

“So he's going to put red lyrium in the Undercroft? Does he want to grow it here?” Blackwall asked, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

Leliana shook her head. “There's no way that's his plan, he couldn't possibly think we were stupid enough not to find it before it caused any real trouble.”

“Charged and left...” Solas mumbled. “Is he going to activate something and leave it, perhaps?”

“Like a bomb?” Sera inquired, and the room fell silent as they all considered that possibility.

“I think that's exactly what it is. A bomb of red lyrium set off near Dagna's supplies could level half of Skyhold.” Cullen growled, aghast at the plan now that they had discovered it.

“Cole, you said 'slip in slip out in the dead of night', do you know which night?” Leliana asked him.

Cole titled his head, his eyes losing focus as he concentrated. Cullen wondered if he was trying to remember, or if he was actively searching the man's head again. “Wait here.” he said suddenly, and then was gone in a puff of smoke.

“Riiiiight, 'cause that's not weird at all.” Sera muttered, crossing her arms over her chest as they waited.

When he materialized again it was sudden enough to make Josephine jump nearly a foot in the air and let out a high pitched, very girlish scream. Cole turned to her and gave her a sheepish look.

“Sorry Lady Josephine.” he said, shuffling his feet and not quite meeting her eyes.

The diplomat was holding her hand over her heart, breathing in small, quick bursts. “It's perfectly alright, Cole. No harm done.”

“Well, do you know when yet?” Leliana asked as she pat Josephine on the shoulder consolingly.

“Tomorrow night. I think he wants to leave early...but he wants to make it sharp before he goes.”

“We have him.” Cullen said, smacking a gloved fist into the palm of his other hand.

“So, Commander, what's our plan now?” Solas asked him, leaning against the wall and relaxing as his eyes lit up with mischief. Cullen looked around the room and saw the excited anticipation had returned once again.

“Yeah Cully Wully, whats the plan part two?” Sera bounced on the balls of her feet.

Cullen paced for a moment before the idea started to take shape. He flashed them a grin and leaned over the table. “Alright, here's what we'll do...”

 


	49. The Order's Biggest Betrayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things are over for Andrew.

Andrew announced the following morning that the Trevelyan retinue would be leaving the next day to head to Emprise du Lion, to seek out Autumn directly. To prevent any suspicions from arising, Cullen had acted properly irritated, insisting that they could not interrupt her work. In the end he had relented, Josephine insisting quite succinctly they could not control where the Trevelyans deigned to travel. Cullen would have been far, far more furious at the impertinence if he hadn't known that they would be apprehending the bastards that night when they tried to plant whatever device they had, keeping them well away from ever reaching Autumn.

The plan was a simple one. Leliana and a handful of her people, along with Blackwall, Sera, and Vivienne, would accost the Trevelyan troops to ensure they stayed put during the operation. Cullen, Solas, Cole, and a handful of Cullen's best soldiers were going to lay in wait in the Undercroft, hidden from view until they could catch Andrew in the act. There were also people being sent to shadow Thurston, in case he wasn't following Trevelyan down, but Cole seemed certain they would be committing their act of treachery together.

The waiting was the hardest part. It was slightly easier on Cullen, since he had a massive backlog of work that had accumulated from the day before to occupy his mind, but he still had trouble keeping still and focusing. Although he definitely fared better than Sera and Blackwall, who had somehow managed to burn down several of the training dummies with a cloud of bees that had been set on fire. After the conflagration had been put out, and Josephine had demanded angrily what had gotten into them, Sera had only insisted – repeatedly – that it had been Vivienne's idea and she should be the one getting yelled at. Which of course the enchanter denied vehemently, despite the twinkle in her eye making Cullen very suspicious of her honesty in this matter. After that distraction, things had fallen strangely silent around the castle, as though everyone knew they were all waiting for something to happen. He found himself grateful that they had cleared so many people out of the way the day before, so that the quiet solitude of most of the areas didn't seem suspicious to their guests.

When night finally graced itself upon them, the sun disappearing to make way for the large, crystalline moon to overtake the sky, bathing everything in a bright silver light that looked more innocent than it had a right to on this night, Cullen could feel the relief as some of the tension released in his shoulders Planning was all well and good, and subterfuge certainly had its place, but he was a man of action. He could never feel truly prepared when he faced an opponent without a sword in his hand to do it.

And nobody deserved to be beaten with a sword quite as much as Andrew Trevelyan and his crony Thurston.

Well except perhaps Corypheus and any member of the Venatori, but that went without saying, and none of them were in Skyhold at the moment. Beggars could not be choosers, it seemed.

When they got the signal from Leliana's men that their targets were definitely in their rooms for the moment everyone sprang into action, moving into their places with silent determination. They couldn't move on the soldiers until Trevelyan and de Carrac were already in the Undercroft, to avoid alerting them to their danger, but people needed to be in place to strike at a moment’s notice. For his part, he gathered with his group in a small area underneath the stairs leading to the Undercroft – the same place that he was told Solas and Vivienne had used to hide during the other day's endeavors – and waited to be able to spring on their prey. This would be the worst bout of waiting that they would have to endure, standing there silently, gripping their weapons tightly, breaths coming in shallow bursts as they all focused intently on not making a sound, not moving a muscle so that no glint of steel, no shuffle of feet would give away their presence. When they finally, blessedly, heard footsteps above them, it was difficult not to let out a sigh of relief.

“Are you sure we should still be doing this? We should just leave. This wasn't what you thought it would be, things have changed. We should get out while we can.” Thurston's voice carried down to them, a nasally whine that caught at the edges of Cullen's nerves.

“And say what, exactly? Sorry father, I failed, please tell our Master we'll try harder next time?” Andrew snapped. “I'm not failing at this. I don't know about _you,_ but I want what was promised to me.”

“Dead men don't reap benefits, Andy.” Thurston said, but the protest was bereft of any real bite.

“Right, because that blonde idiot can actually _do_ anything to us. He touches me and father will have half the Free Marches demanding the Inquisition be disbanded.”

“If you say so.” Their voices trailed off as they entered the Undercroft, approaching the door to the closet where all the supplies were kept. They heard the door open, followed by some shuffling around before Andrew spoke again.

“Hurry up and activate this thing already so we can get out of here.” he ordered Thurston.

Then, for the first time that night, the party laying in wait was actually surprised. Cullen no longer had lyrium in his system, so his templar abilities were severely weakened, but even in this state he could sense the tingle of magic flowing through the air as Thurston did whatever it was that he was supposed to do. Cullen glanced over at Solas, who nodded to confirm his silent question. It seemed Thurston was a mage. Cullen cursed the lack of templars with them in the party, but he couldn't have known that they would be needed, hadn't thought that any would be necessary to take down two men whom they had assumed had no magical talent. Now they were dealing with a mage and a magically activated device of some kind, capable of doing Maker knew what. This could be far riskier than they had anticipated, and now there was no way to warn anyone else or do any kind of evacuating. As Cullen crept out of the shadows towards the men, he only hoped that this would not all fall down around their ears after everything else that they had gone through.

“Stop what you're doing immediately, Trevelyan.” Cullen barked as they moved into place, surrounding the two men and blocking their exit. Andrew spun around, eyes wide. Thurston backed up against the wall, giving everyone present a clear view of the device that he had been working on. It was a small thing, no bigger than a man's fist, placed atop one of the barrels almost inconspicuously. A glittering red gem that seemed to pulse with energy, casting a faint glow into the room that tinged their skin a sickly red and glinted maliciously in their eyes.

“Commander Cullen.” Andrew snarled, his voice so full of venom that a lesser man might have drawn back. Cullen kept up with his slow approach, sword drawn and aimed at the man's heart.

“You're surrounded, and your men have been detained. Stand down.” he kept his voice even, worked to keep his rage just below the surface. They all knew that he wouldn't stand down.

Andrew laughed, a slow, crazed sound bubbling out of his chest, the smile cracking across his face looking twisted and unnatural. “You think you've won have you? Do you even _know_ what you're up against?”

“A spoiled child who failed to grow out of his sibling rivalry.” Solas said, his voice affecting the same bored tone that Andrew had used so often.

“Filthy knife ear.” Andrew turned his head and spat on the ground. “No one will stand against Corypheus!” and without warning he spun around, grabbing the piece of red lyrium from where it rested and lobbing it towards the wall.

There was a moment after the crystal shattered against the stonework that Cullen was certain they had all just died. A wave of hot air poured out of the spot where it impacted, knocking everyone present off of their feet. Cullen saw spots of color dancing in the blinding brightness that had engulfed his vision, and all sound had been replaced by a steady ringing in his ears. He felt his back slam against the ground, knocking the wind out of him, but everything happening to his body felt distant, as though he weren't connected to it anymore.

“Commander!” Solas' insistent voice drew him back into the present slowly. Shaking his head and blinking his eyes rapidly cleared his vision, and he took in the scene. Instead of seeing a destroyed Undercroft, he was relieved to note nothing besides the people seemed to have been affected at all by the blast. The reason why became apparent quickly enough.

Solas stood, hands and staff outstretched as he leaned forward, magic pulsing from the tips of his fingers and connecting to a bubble wrapped around what looked like an orb of solid fury. The place where the bomb had impacted the wall was cordoned off with the barrier, containing the devastation that it could have wrought. Solas’ brow was furrowed in concentration, sweat already forming on his face and neck in his effort to hold the force at bay.

“Commander, don't let him get away!” the mage said through his clenched jaw. Cullen snapped his head around to look at Andrew and Thurston. Thurston was on the ground, blood pooling near his head from a nasty crack to his temple that Cullen wasn't sure he would survive from. Andrew, however, seemed to be recovering from his daze, and Cullen could only watch him as he stumbled to his feet and took off towards the stairs leading to the great hall.

Trying to shake of the last vestiges of his daze, Cullen leaped to his feet and gave chase, his path crooked as his fuzzy head acclimated to the sudden motion. He managed to hold steady and increased his pace. He reached the great hall to find it empty, but caught the swinging movement of the door that led to Autumn's chambers giving away the direction that Andrew had run. Cullen resumed his dash, knowing there was nowhere to go in that tower but up to her room, which had no exits but the balconies that led to very long, very deadly drops into the courtyard below.

Andrew was trapped.

***

Keeping the barrier in place felt a lot like holding his bare hands directly into a pile of simmering embers. Solas could feel the power of the blast within traveling through his magic and into him, crushing him with its force. He ground his teeth together, trying to hold the magic in place, knowing that to let go would be to lose all of Skyhold in a maelstrom of fire and rage.

He turned his head a fraction as the door to the Undercroft burst open again behind him, but was relieved rather than alarmed to see Vivienne and Cole dash in. Solas hadn't even noticed when the spirit had left.

“Should I even ask why you are here?” he asked them, turning his gaze back to his task.

“Cole said you needed help.” Vivienne replied coolly, strolling over to stand beside him and surveying the situation.

“It's very angry.” Cole murmured, his eyes wide as he looked through the walls of the barrier, the red glow mirrored across the canvas of his pale blue gaze.

“The Trevelyan forces?” Solas asked as Vivienne walked close to the barrier, looking at it as though it were a particularly interesting pair of shoes from Val Royeaux.

“Perfectly contained darling. They didn't so much as lift a finger of resistance. What of our lovely guests?” she spoke distractedly, which Solas took to mean that she was concentrating on a way to help him. At least, he hoped that was what she was doing, because he wouldn't be able to maintain this spell forever.

“Andrew took off, the Commander went after him.” Solas felt like he was getting dizzy, the pressure behind his barrier building and creating an odd sensation within himself, as though he were climbing too high on a mountain top. His ears popped painfully in reaction, making him wince.

“And Thurston?” she continued.

“You're standing in his life.” Cole answered her, and Vivienne glanced down sharply, grimacing as she noticed the man's blood was now all over her robes and heeled boots.

“Ugh, could you have thought to mention that earlier, Cole?” she snapped, swirling her dress out of the offending gore.

“Sorry, Madame de Fer.” Cole told her contritely, shrugging.

Vivienne rolled her eyes at him and lifted her hands, pulling forth magic to cast something. Solas watched with interest as the explosion behind the barrier was mingled with forming crystals of ice. At first they immediately melted, but as Vivienne continued to pump more and more mana into her spell the flames gradually gave way, and soon the shattered pieces of the red lyrium bomb were encased in a large ice formation, rendered harmless. Vivienne waved her hand again and a pedestal of ice formed just underneath the structure. With a sigh of relief, Solas let his barrier fall, and the ice structure landed lightly on the pedestal below, the explosion dispelled and the danger gone.

“There, my dear. I believe that should be safe for the time being. Shall we go see if our Commander needs any help?” She smiled widely at them. Solas and Cole nodded in return, and they headed off to see if they could track down Cullen and Andrew.

***

Cullen could hear the footsteps above him stop somewhere halfway between the bottom of the tower and Autumn's room. He moved up the stairs cautiously, glancing above him repeatedly in case he could catch sight of the cornered man. Eventually he reached the flight Andrew was on, pacing like a mad man, sweat covering his face, dark red hair askew. He whirled around to face Cullen when he caught sight of the door being opened.

“Ah, the order's biggest betrayer come to finish me off, then?” he spat, face suffused with rage.

Cullen held his sword out steadily, the point unwavering as he inched his way closer. “It doesn't have to be like this. Surrender, and you will not be harmed.”

“Harmed? _Harmed_?! Do you have any idea how much I have already suffered because of her?” his voice was increasing in pitch, raising an octave or two in his maniacal fervor. “I was supposed to become a templar. The order was going to bring me all of the glory that I could never have as a mere Trevelyan...but no, she couldn't be happy playing father's games, she couldn't just let everything be. She always had to _interfere_. Everything I did, all the fun I could have had, and she had to stick her nose in it and start ruining things.”

He was raving, driven to the very edge of sanity, if not already pushed over. “Andrew just -” Cullen began, but was cut off by the man lunging at him, a small dagger pulled out so fast that Cullen hardly saw the gesture. He dodged out of the way, and Andrew stumbled into the railing, smashing the wood and sending it toppling over the edge to bang onto the floor of the tower. Miraculously, Andrew avoided going over the rim himself, standing precariously close to the drop as he spun around to face Cullen again.

“Now she has managed to mess things up for me _again_. She gets sent to the useless conclave, was supposed to die in that Maker damned explosion, but she _lives_. Because of _course_ she does. And now father and I have to work to eliminate her to get what was promised.”

“What do you mean she was supposed to die?” Cullen asked sharply.

“It was the perfect opportunity to get her out of our hair. She would die while Corypheus ascended to his rightful throne. Father would be granted control over all the Free Marches for his help setting everything up, and I...I would have been allowed to become a templar finally, given the power that I deserve to lead men to glory.” he sobbed, clutching at his chest with his free hand.

“You're working with Corypheus.” Cullen was debating whether or not he should keep him talking or run him through immediately.

“I was chosen. Samson _chose_ me to be one of his generals....but no, she has to steal our master's glory and whore herself out to a traitor of the order so he'd run her army for her.”

Cullen grit his teeth against the insults, willing himself to keep his control. “Why are you here, then? What purpose does it serve to come here?”

“Oh, you want all the sordid details, do you?” Andrew sneered. “Thurston was to marry her, fuck her, then kill her, keeping her from nipping at the Venatori's heels any longer. Then we'd blow up your stronghold and continue with the rest of our plans without any fear of ‘the Herald of Andraste’ and her ex-templar pet.”

“That's a horrendous plan, my dear.” Vivienne's voice caused both Cullen and Andrew to snap their heads around to where the enchanter was now standing in the doorway with Solas and Cole. Andrew let out a strangled cry of anguish and leaped off the edge of the walkway, aiming for the scaffolding set up to make repairs just a few feet away. Cullen reached out his hand, as though he could apprehend him, but it was too late, he was already in the air

He made the jump, landing lightly on the platform and standing, giving them a triumphant look. The expression fell from his face as a loud crack sounded throughout the chamber just before the scaffolding collapsed, sending him tumbling amidst a pile of wood and metal to the solid stone floor below. The cacophony of the falling structure echoed loudly against the walls, punctuated by the sickening thud of his body reaching the ground. The group leaned over the edge, staring down at the mess below with trepidation. Andrew Trevelyan could be seen, body crumpled, leg pushed out at an odd angle and neck very broken as his head angled grotesquely to the side, a jagged piece of wood driven through his torso for good measure.

“Dead.” Cole said, with a sense of finality.

For a moment there was nothing but silence in the room and the occasional creaks of the shifting rubble below. None of them knew quite what to say as they stared at the disaster. Eventually the pall was broken when Leliana ran into the tower, Blackwall on her heels. She looked up to meet Cullen's eyes.

“What happened?” she asked, her light soprano carrying easily up to them.

“A great deal...we have much to discuss.” he called down to her, moving away from the edge to walk down the steps to meet her.

He gave Blackwall a nod when he got to the bottom. “He made several very interesting confessions before...doing _that_ to himself.” he spoke to Leliana, waving his hand over the mess before them.

“What should we do with the Trevelyan troops?” Blackwall asked before they could move off.

“Did they know?” Cullen asked Leliana.

“They do not seem to have any knowledge of what's going on, but I could be mistaken.” she shrugged nonchalantly.

“I believe Cole could ascertain that for certain, Lady Nightingale.” Solas offered from behind them.

“Good. Cole, go with Blackwall, question each man separately. If they are innocent, offer them places amongst the Inquisition's militia if they so choose. Inform them that continued service to the Trevelyans will not be an option.” Cullen ordered. Blackwall saluted and Cole nodded, the pair striding purposefully out of the room. “Solas, Vivienne, would you go make sure the Undercroft is secure? You should probably wake up Dagna so she can look over all the dangerous supplies and ensure they’re stable.” The mages nodded and left to complete their tasks.

Cullen shook his head wearily. “Come on, let's get this over with.” he said, and Leliana followed him out the door as they headed to the war room.

 


	50. You're Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they are reunited, and seen.

_Autumn,_

_First off I just want to say I still miss you, and I hope your recovery is going smoothly._

_The second thing I want to say is STOP TRYING TO GET OUT OF RECOVERY. You are making the healer send me angry letters, which, while very amusing, is not something I want to deal with alongside my other duties. It also does an excellent job of making me worry about you tremendously, so if you could manage to behave yourself for just a little while longer I would appreciate it._

_The third thing I am obligated to say is that I regret to inform you that your brother did not survive his trip to Skyhold. I cannot explain the details here, but both him and your fiancee have been killed. I will elaborate further soon, but I hope you are not upset by the news._

_The last thing I would like to share with you is that Baron Desjardins has informed me you are in need of more troops to help stabilize the surrounding area in Emprise du Lion, and so I will be escorting the retinue personally to oversee their arrival._

_I can't wait to see you._

_Love,_

_Cullen_

**

_Hummingbird,_

_Your father has been arrested and is now in Inquisition custody. He will be available for judgment at your leisure._

_Our commander will explain in full when he arrives._

_In other news, please tell the Author I have finalized the notes and they are awaiting his return. I even wrapped them, because they are a precious treasure after what we went through here._

_Looking forward to your return._

_Love,_

_Sister_

***

It had been two weeks since Autumn had received Cullen's letter. Two long, agonizing weeks where she was left to wonder exactly what in the Void had happened at Skyhold. She wasn't upset, per se, as she hardly had any warm familial feelings towards her brother, but she was dying to know how things had played out. The arrival of Leliana's letter two days ago had compounded her curiosity. What could have happened to render her brother and fiancee dead and her father imprisoned?

Things did seem to be swinging back in her favor, however, giving her more to focus on. Her fever had finally broken a few days before, and Anders had declared her fit enough to start getting up and out of bed. She was immediately set upon by Cassandra and Bull to start training again, which she was only too thrilled to comply with. Anders kept her from spending too much time reworking her neglected muscles, but even the couple of hours a day that she squeezed in felt good. It was amazing to be able to feel her body moving again, to feel it responding to her commands like it had before. And _Maker,_ she was glad to get out of that cot.

She was in her tent, sharpening her blades, when she finally heard the horn announcing the arrival of an incoming party. She dropped her weapons and raced out, heart pounding against her ribs as she held her breath, looking to the edge of camp in the direction that she knew they would be approaching. Sure enough, a large group of Inquisition soldiers was just marching into sight, banners held high and colors easily recognizable against the stark snowy backdrop. Her eyes locked on the figure in the front, the familiar red and black fur of his pauldrons making him stand out, the tall, commanding man leading them all into camp atop a noble steed like some picture book knight. She took an involuntary step forward, hand flying to her throat as she swallowed back the emotions threatening to overcome her.

The sun cast a bright glow on his armor, golden glints of color mingling with the warm red of his cloak. His lion helm was off, sitting in the crook of his arm, his head turned as he spoke to one of the scouts. His hair looked like solid sunlight, shining like a beacon of happiness that threatened to bring her to her knees. His head turned and he saw her standing in the path, their eyes locking together for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

He dropped his helm carelessly into the snow as he vaulted off his horse, boots barely hitting the ground before he was rushing towards her, the fur around his shoulders flying in the wind. A sob escaped her as she propelled her own feet onward, tears that she hadn't even known she was holding back pouring out of her eyes and creating ice cold trails down her cheeks.

When they collided he swept her off her feet, spinning her in a fierce hug that threatened to crush her against his armor, but Maker she didn't _care._ He was there, whole and warm and _hers,_ and she sobbed against his neck, losing herself to the pure joy of seeing him again. He kept her held off the ground, her feet kicking back in the air as he planted his lips against hers, showering love onto her as they met. She twined her hands in his hair, reveling in the way it felt, the soft blonde locks curling around her fingers and making him shiver. She could taste her tears in their kisses, but she didn't care. She couldn't stop because they were both alive and together again, and it felt too good to care about anything else.

He pulled his lips back, resting his forehead against hers and looking into her eyes. She gazed back, feeling like she was looking straight into the warm summer sun, shining with happiness that sent her heart fluttering around within her.

“You're here.” she choked out, her voice a shaking mess that she couldn't control.

He chuckled and kissed her again, quickly, which turned into a series of sweet connections that he rained across her face before nuzzling his nose against hers. “Maker I missed you.” he murmured, voice rough with all of the things she knew he felt.

At that moment, a particularly loud whistle brought them back to the present, and they became aware that everyone in the keep was standing around them, applauding and whistling at their display. She watched Cullen blush, feeling her own cheeks heat. She expected him to pull away, to change their embrace to a more modest one under all of the scrutiny.

It took her breath away when he set her down and wrapped an arm around her, pressing the small of her back as he leaned her over and dipped her, kissing her deeply as he did so. Maker she loved this man.

The cheers were deafening.

***

He watched the display from the ridge, ensconced in the shadows provided along the ruined wall of the outer keep. He'd come to survey what was left of their operation, and had not expected to be granted such an interesting show.

Cullen Rutherford and the Inquisitor. He never would have guessed it.

This could change things. He would have to let their people at Halamshiral know about this. They could certainly use the information to their advantage, especially if the Inquisition was successful in getting an invitation to attend.

Samson turned to the templar next to him, a silent sentinel standing by to obey his every command. “Come on, I've seen enough here. We have some letters to write.”

He walked away from the keep, into the deeper shadows to where their mounts waited, to slip away before they were noticed. As they rode into the darkness, the snow muffling their retreat, Samson thought of how much better it would be to take her, now that he was taking her from him.

 


	51. Cullen was a Good Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Autumn returns and reunites with all her friends.

_Autumn,_

_Thanks for the offer to stay. It meant a lot more to us than you could possibly know. I wish that we could stay, I really do but...we have some things to take care of before we can find a home._

_We're going to head to Weisshaupt, to try and talk to the wardens and make sure everything is okay with them. A. thinks there might be some things in their records that could help us on our personal quest._

_When everything is all over, though, and Corypheus is dead, and J. is back in the fade...I hope the offer will still stand. A. and I would love to settle down and spend some quality time with you and Curly._

_Stay safe and keep kicking ass._

_Love,_

_L. H., Champion and Rogue extraordinaire_

***

They spent a week together in the frigid cold of Emprise du Lion before finally heading back to Skyhold, her entire entourage in tow. Autumn rode in front of Cullen, sharing the same horse shamelessly for the time being, the pair of them unable to let each other go after the close calls followed by the long absence. Her companions didn't even bother to tease them, for the most part, although Dorian did keep making rather odd comments to Cullen about his need to know exactly how he defended Autumn's honor. Cullen would blush and brush him off until Cassandra finally threatened to shave off the Tevinter's mustache while he slept if he didn't leave them alone.

Autumn hadn't quite been able to decide if she was looking forward to arriving home or not. On the one hand, her bed, and the prospect of dragging a certain blonde Commander into it, was an enticing idea. On the other hand, she was going to be faced with passing judgment on her father, a Venatori agent who had plotted her murder – twice – and attempted to destroy her home. She held no love for the man, had long ago dropped any pretense of caring for him simply because they were related by blood, but that didn't mean that she knew what to do with him. She hadn't sentenced a single person to death in her time as Inquisitor. There was always a better option, something more worthy to put the rest of their lives towards. With Aurthur Trevelyan, however...every time she thought about what he deserved, she couldn't help thinking about her past, about the suffering that she had been put through at his hands.

Things in Autumn's life at home had rapidly deteriorated after her mother's death. Autumn had her suspicions about how she had died, straining an already distant relationship between her and her father His insistence that she be trained to properly take over the estate had caused further complications when she had found out exactly how many underhanded dealings that her family participated in, particularly its involvement in procuring ships to transport slaves. She had rebelled against the entire thing, slipping out and spending late nights in the taverns of the surrounding towns. Then she had met the Antivan assassin, who had taken a liking to her for some reason or another, and Autumn had traded her nights drinking for nights training, and later for nights fighting riffraff and having sex. Eventually he had to move on, a parting that was not particularly bitter for either of them – she was never in it for love, and neither was he – and she was left to her own devices again. That was around the time that Andrew had started hanging out with his templar friends. It wasn't long after that she killed the templar trying to hurt that poor mage girl, something her father was finally not willing to turn a blind eye to. After that, Aurthur Trevelyan had locked his daughter up in the estate, making sure that she had no way to slip out, keeping her constantly under guard, and denounced her as heir, passing the torch to Andrew instead. She was privileged to several beatings in this time, whenever she would try to argue with her temperamental father and he had partaken in one too many drinks. She vividly remembered the nights she would lay in her bed, stubbornly refusing to cry even as her body ached with the bruises covering her skin.

Then they had sent her to the conclave. It had seemed odd at the time, that he would suddenly try to heap responsibilities onto her out of the blue. She hadn't analyzed it too deeply, however. She wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. She would be quiet, and use the opportunity to escape somewhere into Ferelden. At least, that had been her original plan. Now that she knew that they had intended her to die at the conclave, that it was just a way to kill her off without suspicion, she realized that she would have never been allowed to slip away. Her father had decided that she could be of no use to him, and therefore needed to be taken out of the picture. As much as she wished, it was hard not to be reminded of the terrible things he used to scream at her. Finding out the depths to which her father did not care made her feel as worthless as he had always thought she was.

Knowing all that she did now about her family's plans made everything seem muddled. It was her father's fault that she was at the conclave, he was the reason that she had been there to foil Corypheus' plan. It was ironic that one of his own agents had been responsible for that decision, but it made it harder for her to know how to feel about her own fate. She was angry that all this was thrust upon her but...when she looked at Cullen, looked at any of her friends, she found it hard to truly resent her the hand she had been dealt. She was surrounded by the greatest people she had ever met, and she could not bring herself to regret that. What did that say about her? What did it mean that if she were given the chance to turn back time and stop all of this from happening...that she wouldn't want to take that chance, because it would mean losing everything that meant something to her?

And where did that leave her in regards to her father? Was she grateful for his hateful decisions under all her resentment? Could she sentence the man to death, even knowing that his treachery had ended up bringing her so much happiness? Did she even still want to punish him? It was significantly harder to hold a grudge with Cullen's arms wrapped around her, warm and solid, protecting her from the rest of the world. It made her anger fade into something that felt a lot more like pity.

In the end it didn't matter. Her father had worked with the same evil villain that sought to destroy the world. He would have been party to the destruction of herself _and_ all of the people she loved, regardless of whether or not she had found them. His planning could have _still_ harmed them, had Cullen not been clever enough to uncover the whole thing. She couldn't allow that to stand, couldn't allow him to get away with what he had done.

As they rode into Skyhold, Autumn felt like she knew what had to be done, and could finally put the ghosts from her past to rest.

***

_V._

_Remind me to thank your Inquisitor. The amount of slaver activity in the area has decreased drastically since your people marched in and hauled the Trevelyan man off in chains. I know he was from out of the city, but apparently a lot of his contacts ceased activity when he was gone._

_I hate to be a bother, but were you aware that Sebastian is assaulting the city? He apparently thinks tearing apart Kirkwall (again) will lead him to A. He's on the murder path, and I'm not sure the guard has the numbers to stop him. If there's anything you and your new friends can do, I would certainly be grateful._

_Pass my hello's on to Cullen, and A. and H. if they are still with you. Donnic says hello as well._

_Sincerely,_

_Aveline_

***

Autumn wasted no time when she got home. She didn't even bother to run up and change out of her clothes before she started seeking out the friends that had been left behind in Skyhold while she was away. Sera started crying when the lithe archer flew into her arms, swearing something about never letting her adventure alone again that was hard to understand around all the cursing. Blackwall insisted on buying her a drink at the tavern, the stoic man overcome with happiness at having her back Cole clung to her in a hug that lasted nearly five minutes while he babbled away about things that had happened while she was away – rather incoherently, but Autumn smiled and laughed nonetheless.

It took a bit to track down Vivienne. She wasn't in her normal haunt on the balcony above the great hall. Autumn finally found her in one of the quieter alcoves of the library, perusing a shelf of books about alchemy.

“Viv...” Autumn felt her face split into a warm smile. The enchanter whirled on her, fully prepared to take her to task for using such an informal manner of address until she saw who it was. Autumn was the only person in the entire world allowed to call her by the nickname.

“My dear, it is good to see you.” Vivienne's face beamed a welcoming smile.

Before she could protest, Autumn closed the distance and wrapped her in a tight hug, pressing into the mage in an effort to show her just how much everything that she had done for them meant. Vivienne awkwardly returned the gesture, a hesitant hand patting her back.

“Whatever has gotten into you?” she asked, a nervous laugh on her lips.

“Cullen told me, about everything you did. Thank you for helping to save him, and for everything with my family.” she said over the enchanter's shoulder, refusing to relinquish the embrace.

Vivienne's posture relaxed, and she finally returned the affection. “My dear, it _is_ what I'm here for, after all.”

When Autumn stepped back they both had to quickly wipe the tears from the corners of their eyes, then grinned at each other giddily when they saw the mirrored reaction.

“See you around, then?” Autumn asked.

“Of course.” was her fervent reply. “Oh, and _do_ try to be more careful from now on. It wouldn't do to have our leader perish before she makes her debut to the court.”

Autumn gave her a polite bow, grinning ear to ear, before spinning on her heel to go find the last person that she had to thank now that she was home.

***

He knew that she had walked into the room before she said anything.

Solas wanted to turn around and sweep her up in his arms, to hold her close and never let go again, lest she find herself in danger once more. Knowing that was impossible, for far more reasons than one, created an ache in his chest that threatened to overcome him. So instead of turning around he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing himself to get his emotions back under control.

When she wrapped her arms around him from behind he stiffened, every muscle tensing in reaction to the touch. She pressed her cheek into his back, pulling him closer.

“Solas.” she murmured.

“Lethallan.” he managed around the cotton suddenly filling his lungs. He turned, even while she kept her slender arms around him, arms that held such strength, arms that were his complete undoing, and placed his own around her, resting his hands gently on her back, pulling her into his chest.

For a moment they remained that way, holding on to one another while he was filled with a sad sense of relief. She was here and alive, and that should be enough to make him happy. That should be all that he asked for, that her joyful face was still filled with life. He closed his eyes again, trying not to let the tears fall from them, breathing in and out and trying not to focus on the intoxicating way she smelled.

“Solas, how can I ever thank you?” her voice cracked around the question. He knew that she was looking up at him, and just knowing her eyes were on him caused his heart to flutter treacherously.

“For what?” he kept his eyes closed to avoid trying to find her face, find her lips, to claim them and keep her from voicing any gratitude for whatever he had done. He didn't need her thanks. He needed her, her life, her laughter, her smiles, he needed to know that those were still in this world, still shining in the darkness that threatened to engulf him whole when she was not around. It mattered not that it was fleeting.

“For saving him.”

It hurt, those simple words. Hurt to hear them, to have her gratitude for saving the man she loved. He did not regret it. He would do anything for her, including keeping her with the man that she had given her heart to. He would cross through the ends of the fade to bring Cullen back to her, if that was what she wanted, but that didn't keep it from hurting him. From tearing at his heart every time that he saw her smile at him. His fingers twitched with every simple touch that she bestowed upon the Commander, yearning for it to be him instead. Cullen was a good man, and if any man deserved her affections, it was him. Certainly more than Solas himself. He could not hate him for it, anymore than he could hate _her_ for it, but the pain in his heart would not subside.

Solas pulled her tighter, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “I promised you.” he said, all that he could say. He leaned over and kissed the top of her head lightly, lips barely brushing against her silken hair. She smelled like starlight, like something bright and exotic, and forever out of reach.

She pulled back and looked up into his eyes, and Solas forced himself to hold her gaze. She smiled at him, her gaze holding all the warmth and love that he didn’t deserve. That hurt too. Even as it warmed him, it hurt. She seemed to sense something in his gaze, in his mood, and her brow creased, one little line on the bridge of her nose marring the marble of her skin.

“Sorry if I worried you.” Her contrition was amusing, as the sincerity never lessened no matter how many times she had to make that particular apology.

He smiled and chuckled, shaking his head. “You worried us all.”

Her lips quirked upward in a crooked grin. “I seem to do that a lot.” She stepped out of his arms, creating a small distance between them that felt like miles to him, the contact of her body next to his missed like the tides would miss the moon if it fell from the sky.

“Promise me you will live.” he said, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. What kind of an insane request was that? She could guarantee that no more than she could love him. He wanted to shake his head at himself, to apologize at his own impertinence, but his eyes remained locked on hers, dark green gems trapping him in place. She was no mage, but she had enchanted him more surely than any magic in existence ever could.

“I can promise to try.” she replied, giving him a wry smile. “I have to get to the war room, but we'll spend some time together later, alright?” she told him as she started to walk away. He nodded, feeling like the action would be safer than trying to open his mouth and speak again, afraid that his traitorous mouth would say too much.

She walked out of the room and Solas felt alone. More alone than he had ever felt before. The tears came then, and he found a quiet corner to let them out where none could see his shameful display.

How many times could a heart break before the pieces were too small to be held together?

 


	52. Know Your Limits, Ser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cole offers to teach, and Rylen might have a problem.

“You’re an idiot!” Rylen’s face was red from laughing, and Jim scowled at him in turn. “You can’t celebrate being _punched._ I would be so much more impressed if she had kissed you.”

Faren watched as Rylen wiped a tear from his eye, and Jim puffed up like an agitated bird. Next to him, Bryce was frowning, a crease of concern forming on the bridge of his freckled nose.

“You’re just jealous she didn’t punch you.” Jim crossed his arms over his chest, the still fading black eye standing out as his face turned crimson.

Faren and Rylen glanced at each other before they both burst into laughter, Faren dropping his hand of cards onto the table as he tried to breathe.

“I guess everybody has their kinks.” Faren grinned at Jim, who glowered in return.

“You guys are the _worst.”_ He whined.

Bryce pat the soldier on the back. “Aw, don’t listen to them Jim. If you’re happy about it, that’s all that matters.”

Rylen took a deep breath, calming himself as he turned a contrite smile to their friend. “I’m sorry Jim, really. If you like getting punched by powerful women, who are we to judge?”

“Stop making it a sex thing!” Jim shot out of his chair, lobbing a finger at the giggling templar. Bryce grabbed his shoulder and guided him back down into his chair, shushing him from making any further outburst. Faren tried to suppress his own laughter, until he realized the entire tavern had turned after hearing Jim’s words, and then he couldn’t stop the mirth from spilling forth.

Jim stood, his hands balled into his fists at his side, and stalked off to another table in the tavern, sending them scathing glares behind his shoulder. Faren watched him go as his laughter died down, and caught sight of a lanky boy with straw colored hair sitting on a stool at the end of their table.

He had met Cole, he reminded himself. Cole had saved him, Cole had given him a book of jokes, Cole was a member of the Inquisition. He chanted the facts to himself as the recognition gradually returned. It took some doing, but he was now able to remember Cole even when he wasn’t around, although it was much easier when he was.

“Hello, Cole.” Faren dipped his head in greeting.

Cole smiled broadly, his hat wiggling on top of his head as he bounced in his seat. “You remembered!”

“Wait, you forgot Cole?” Bryce interjected, his mouth dropping open. “How can you forget Cole, he’s fantastic!”

“It;s okay.” Cole blinked at them, then tilted his head at Bryce. “You’re good at seeing people.”

“Oh, well…thank you?” Bryce tilted his head in turn, his orange hair falling in a lopsided direction.

Rylen interrupted their exchange when he stood with abrupt urgency, his eyes locked on Cassandra as she entered the room through the door, haloed by the sunshine outside. “I have to go take care of something immediately right now.” His mumbled farewell was barely intelligible, but he was already marching across the room towards the Seeker.

“Watch.” Cole’s voice was low and intent, and his eyes were glued to the pair at the bar. Faren exchanged a glance with Bryce, who shrugged. They did as the spirit asked, and turned to see what would happen.

They watched as Rylen approached Cassandra, her hip leaned into the bar as she waited for Cabot to bring her order out. Rylen sidled up and slid across the wood until he was about an inch from her, a salacious grin plastered across his painted face. Cassandra nodded in greeting and immediately backed away a half step, adding a respectable distance between the two. Rylen said something that they couldn’t hear over the din in the crowded bar, and Cassandra nodded again, polite yet disinterested. Rylen said something else, throwing in a hand gesture that didn’t provide much information to the words that it went with, which made the Seeker’s back stiffen in response. She turned a baleful eye towards the templar, glaring, and he smiled and said something else.

Whatever his final words were was enough to set Cassandra off. Her cheeks turned bright red, and in one forceful motion she hauled back and decked Rylen across the jaw, knocking him to the floor. Cabot looked down at the poor fool as he set Cassandra’s drink down on the bar, and she grabbed the mug and stalked out the back door of the tavern without a second glance.

“See, I knew you were jealous!!” Jim shouted from across the room. Faren and Bryce started laughing, unable to resist, and Rylen shot them a venomous glare.

Bryce and Faren turned back to the table, and Faren let out a long, low whistle. “She was _pissed.”_

“She wasn’t.” Cole remarked.

“What do you mean? She punched him!” Bryce asked, incredulous.

Cole shook his head. “The things that Rylen said made her feel good, even if she had to also be angry because of the eyes. Mad and glad, layers that mix because they have to. The plus was more than the minus.”

“So, if they had been alone, would Rylen have _succeeded?”_ Faren couldn’t comprehend that being the case, but Cole made it sound like the only reason the Seeker turned down the obvious flirtation was because there were people present.

“No, but the anger would have been smaller. She does not want the man. Knowing that he wants her makes her feel less invisible. He made her feel better. I can show you how.” His last sentence was abrupt, strangely not apart of the rest of his words, and Faren frowned as he tried to figure out what he meant.

Bryce looked at them both, mortified. “You can’t be suggesting that we start harassing women on the off chance we _might_ boost their confidence?”

Cole laughed, delighted even as he shook his head in denial. “Not that. Seeing. I can help you see the things that people don’t say. The truth beneath the armor.”

“Like reading people?” Faren scratched at his beard as he contemplated the idea.

“Watching, learning, knowing, and helping.”

Bryce sighed. “Well, that’ a much less horrifying prospect. Cole, I would love to learn how to read people better. Maker knows it will come in handy if Leliana gets her way in reassigning me.”

Cole nodded, hat flopping for punctuation. “Good. Lesson one: Running.” Cole hopped off the stool and ran out the door with awe inspiring speed, leaving nothing but a wobbling wooden seat behind. Faren and Bryce stared after him, wondering what exactly that was supposed to teach them, or if it was just more nonsensical ramblings from a boy that didn’t seem to be all there most of the time.

The clearing of a very angry throat next to their table made them turn their heads, and the pair of them looked up into the steely eyes of Cassandra Pentaghast, who was tapping her foot to a rapid cadence, her hands on her hips, affixing them with a fierce amount of fury. Rylen stood behind her, a malicious grin across his tattooed face that Cassandra couldn’t see while her back was turned to him.

“I understand that you two put Knight Captain Rylen up to his little stunt earlier. Would you care to explain why you think it’s funny to send louts to prey on unsuspecting women?”

Faren and Bryce looked at each other again. “Lesson one. Running?” Faren asked.

Bryce gave him the briefest of nods. “Running!”

They leapt out of their chairs with enough speed to send them toppling to the floor, the clamor loud enough to drown out the Seeker’s shrieks as she screamed them out of the tavern.

***

_Attention Inquisition,_

_At 10:00 am, the 8th of Cloudreach, we ask that as many of you as possible assemble in the courtyard. At the appointed time, Knight Captain Rylen will issue a formal apology to the men and women of the Inquisition which have been subjected to unwanted advances on his behalf._

_This has been so ordered by the Lady Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast._

_Thank you for your time and attention._

_\- Lady Josephine Montilyet_

_**_

_Rutherford,_

_They can’t be serious? I’m supposed to be leaving back to the Western Approach that day! Please, save me!_

_\- Rylen_

 

_Rylen,_

_I’m afraid you’ve dug your own grave with this one, Rylen. Cassandra is bent on seeing you adequately punished. If I interfere they’re like to oust me from the keep._

_I suggest you make your apology as sincere as possible, and try to make wiser decisions on the people you choose for potential bedmates._

_\- Cullen_

 

_Rutherford,_

_You are the worst. I’m going to spread filthy stories about you and the Inquisitor as retribution for your terrible loyalty._

_Kirkwallers should stick together!_

_\- Rylen_

 

_Rylen,_

_If you would like to risk the wrath of the rest of the women in the Inquisition, be my guest._

_Perhaps Varric will help you? He’s from Kirkwall, go bother him._

_\- Cullen._

_**_

_Rylen,_

_Sorry, can’t help, Seeker already has way too many reasons to kill me._

_Also, the Seeker? REALLY? Know your limits, ser._

_\- Varric_

 


	53. Leliana Didn't Take Your Virginity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Autumn gets a special note, and faces her father.

_V_

_Did you know if you wear a big enough hat the kitchen staff in Denerim will do anything you say?_

_-Izzy_

_**_

_V._

_If you ever ask me for a favor again I will hit you. With something very large and heavy._

_Like a dragon._

_Sincerely,_

_Alistair_

_**_

_Varric,_

_I think maybe Izzy is getting on his Majesty's nerves a bit. Alistair, I mean. The king. He says I should call him Alistair but that feels wrong because everyone is always calling him other things and bowing quite a lot. Anyways Izzy has been wearing her admiral's hat and ordering the palace staff around and I think they get confused about who is in charge when she does that. Do you think if she wears a big enough hat she could become the queen? I asked his Majesty_ (this has been scratched out) _Alistair and he said that the current queen would be VERY unhappy if that happened. I've never met a queen before, do you think she's nice? His Majesty_ (scratched out again, more roughly this time) _Alistair says that she would probably like me and would have tried to recruit me if we had met during the blight. I'm not sure what that means but I think it's a compliment._

_Has Izzy told you about Adina? I don’t think she likes me very much, either. She is always pinching the bridge of her nose when I’m talking, so I think I give her headaches. Do you think it’s because she was almost a templar? Do templars get headaches around mages? Maybe that’s why they were always so grumpy. Cullen must be different._

_Also the king gave me a puppy! He gets along so well with Varric the Second that I think I will name him Hawke the Second. Izzy thinks that's very funny but I'm not quite sure why._

_Say hello to Cullen for me, and tell him that Izzy wants to play cards with him again. She says she could always use a second boat._

_Love,_

_Merrill_

_**_

_V._

_Why didn't anyone ever tell me about all the different kinds of cheese? The King has opened my eyes._

_-Fen_

_**_

_My dear Leliana,_

_Your Inquisition is working with the Crows? I ask only because I may have removed one of the assassins from your employ. If I'd known the man was yours, I would have at least let him finish the contract._

_No matter - Allow me to make it up to you. You know I would do a much better job than the Crows - and I am far more pleasing to work with, no? As a favor to a friend, I'll charge only a fraction of the price._

_Zevran Arainai_

 

(A second note was attached with the missive, marked for the Inquisitor)

 

_My lovely Autumn,_

_It has been too long, my delicate Autumn Flower. Hearing about you has brought back so many **VERY** pleasant memories._

_You have certainly made a name for yourself, but then again I always knew you were quite special._

_I would consider it a personal favor if you would agree to stay safe. My heart would break should I hear of any harm that had befallen my most studious pupil._

_Love always,_

_Your Favorite Assassin_

 

“Your assassin was _Zevran Arainai_?” Cullen asked her as soon as he saw the note, bundled in with the rest of the missives they were going over before handing them off to her. She shot a glare in his direction, wondering if he was really going to do this there.

“What?” she feigned innocence.

“You were...” He started before trailing off. She could practically hear the unspoken words anyways, hanging in the air. He fell silent and glanced at the two women standing on either side of him. Leliana and Josephine were looking back and forth between her and Cullen, curious expressions on their faces. Cullen cleared his throat loudly.

“I was what, Commander?” she arched an eyebrow at him, enjoying his embarrassment perhaps a little too much.

“I sense a very excellent story.” Leliana quipped, her grin infectious.

“It's nothing, never mind.” Cullen mumbled, glaring at the wood of the table as though it were to blame.

Autumn rolled her eyes. “He's mad Zevran and I have a bit of a past.” Josephine's eyebrows rose up towards her hairline.

“Well you didn't tell me he was the famous assassin friend of the _Queen of Ferelden_.” Cullen huffed.

“What?” Autumn crossed her arms over her chest, tilting her hips to the side. “Leliana used to travel with Queen Melody, you don't make a big fuss about her.”

“Leliana didn't take your virginity!” She could see by the expression that he made that he had not intended to say that out loud, but his ire had gotten the better of him.

With his comment ringing in the air, the other two women in the room lost it. Leliana buckled forward, holding her stomach and shaking with laughter, while Josephine had to lean into the war table to keep from falling over. Autumn started laughing, but had to swallow it as quick as she could at the look on Cullen's face.

“Cullen, I'm sorry. I didn't think you even knew who he was. I didn't mean to keep it a secret.” she held her hands palm out towards him, beseeching him to forgive her. “If it makes you feel any better, he wasn't nearly as good as he thinks he was.”

Leliana actually fell on the floor at this point, holding her sides while she struggled to breathe. Cullen made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “You women, you will all be the death of me.” shaking his head, he stalked out of the room.

Leaning over the table so that she could see Leliana, Autumn let out a big sigh that she made sure the spymaster could hear.

“You guys made that so much worse than it needed to be.” she told her. “Just for that, neither of you are allowed to have any of the tiny cakes shipped in from Val Royeaux this morning.”

“Totally worth it.” Leliana wheezed.

***

The throne of the Inquisitor was never comfortable. Josephine could pile all the cushions in the world in that seat, but every time Autumn sat down she would feel it underneath her, like ice cold iron, smashing into her skin as though she were naked against it. She _felt_ naked every time she was up there, the entire court of Skyhold staring at her while she weighed the worth of someone's life in her hands. It was never easy, and it never really felt fair, although she had been assured by all of her advisors that her judgments were the epitome of justice.

Today the burden felt particularly heavy. As though the spikes jutting out of the back of the throne were in her back instead, weighing her down and digging into her skin, scraping against her bones until she wanted to scream. She would have preferred to be almost anywhere else in this moment. This was her responsibility, her task to accomplish, and so she couldn’t flee, no matter how tempting the prospect. Now more than ever it was her job to pass judgment on those that had wronged the world.

Aurthur Trevelyan was brought before her in chains. He was dragged into the room, his feet scuffing against the carpet limply as he refused to walk, refused to make things any easier on his captors. His head hung low, black hair falling over his face, obscuring him from her view. He looked like a broken man as he was brought before her, tossed onto the floor where he rested on his knees. Broken, cowed, abandoned by his “god”.

Josephine was speaking, introducing the man to the court, listing his crimes. Collusion with the enemy. Attempted assassination. Accessory to the crimes at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Shipment of slaves, illegal money lending, accessory to covering up crimes committed on his lands. The list seemed to go on and on. He lifted his head and met her eyes, concentrated fury reflected in the hazel gaze. Autumn met his glare, and as Josephine finished speaking she realized that the list was entirely too short. Seeing all the disdain in his face sparked her anger, and Autumn knew that she had much to say to this man before she sentenced him.

“Your list, Ambassador, is incomplete.” her voice was icy cold as it cut through the soft murmurings of the crowd, silencing everyone present in an instant. Josephine turned to her, but after seeing the expression on her face kept her mouth shut, eyes reflecting sympathy that Autumn didn't need at the moment, but wanted to thank her for all the same. Instead she looked at her father and continued the list. “The murder of Lady Trevelyan. Corrupting men of the templar order. Harboring a known rapist. Imprisonment of his own daughter. Beating her within an inch of her life while she had no means of defending herself.” Her voice raised with every new charge, echoing roughly in the chamber, the only sound shattering the still silence that was all but deafening in her ears. Autumn stood off of her throne, feeling like she needed to be taller than him, to tower over him so that he could feel the extent of how far she had risen above him, how far above him she had always been. To show him that she wasn't ashamed of the things he had put her through, and would stand against him for all the world to see.

He sneered at her, lip curling over yellowing teeth. “You were a bitch, just like your mother. Too stubborn to keep your mouth shut and do what you're told.” he spat on the ground, and opened his mouth to say more, but Cullen's glove cuffing him roughly on the jaw silenced him. His head jerked to the side, cheek already bruising, the metal of the glove leaving angry red welts on his face.

“My apologies, Inquisitor. My hand slipped.” Cullen nodded to her with the utmost respect before moving back into his place, standing next to her throne. She could see his anger beneath the surface, obvious by the stiff set of his jawline.

“Forgiven, Commander.” He kept her voice terse, and used her eyes to convey her gratitude.

Aurthur Trevelyan turned back slowly, eying her with rage. The blow was not sufficient enough to silence him, a fact that she didn’t find surprising in the least. “You waste your time. You have always wasted your time. Running around town with that filthy Antivan, shrieking like a harpy after saving that mage girl. As if mages were actually _people_.” he spat again. “You fight against the power of a god, and Corypheus will strike you down. You cannot run from your death forever, girl. He will take your life from you, just as surely as he will take the throne he so rightly deserves, and remake this world for the worthy.”

She stared down at him coldly, shaking her head. “I feel sorry for you. You are more delusional in your old age than I had thought.” she sat back on her throne, crossing her legs daintily and resting her hands on the arms. “Aurthur Trevelyan, for your crimes against Thedas I sentence you to relinquish all your holdings. Your entire collection of wealth will go to purchasing the lives of as many slaves as it can buy and giving them their freedom, with enough money to start new lives for themselves. Your estates will be turned into safe havens for mages, and any man or woman who does not wish to live in the circle or hide from the templars may seek refuge there, and may come and go as they please.” a ripple of approval went through the crowd, people reacting to the undoing of her father’s crimes. Her father growled low in his throat, but held his tongue. “For your crimes against _me_ ,” she continued, “and my family, and those that I care about, there is no path of reparation. There are no redeeming qualities to you as a person, nor do you show any remorse for your actions. Aurthur Trevelyan, you are hereby sentenced to death by poison. May the Maker show mercy on your soul, for you will find none from me.”

As they dragged her father away, stuttering angrily about the injustice of his life, Autumn felt a sense of peace fall over her. Her mother would be avenged, and the world would be rid of a piece of vermin that wasn't worth the blood in his veins. It was a shame that it had to come to this, but there was no other purpose that she could put him towards, no guarantee that that she could stop his hateful influences unless she took him out of the picture completely. She had done the right thing, and she knew it, and with that knowledge she could put her uncertainty to rest. Her past could trouble her no more, leaving her able to look to the future and make plans to stop anyone else that had malicious intent for this world, first and foremost Corypheus. The Inquisition, under her guidance, would take that bastard down and fight for what was right, just as she had promised it would when she had taken up that sword in the courtyard.

The world was marching forward to the beat of her drum, and she would make sure that she held the rhythm steady.

 


	54. You are Not the Commander in Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cullen helps Autumn cope after the judgement.

Despite her determination to move forward and hold her head up high, Autumn found herself succumbing to a deep melancholy as the day carried on. She supposed that it was only natural, bearing the weight of saving the world on her shoulders combined with the heady danger that she seemed to attract on a daily basis would be enough to leave anyone feeling hollowed out. She just wished that she could catch a break every now and then. Spend some time being Autumn the person, instead of Autumn, Inquisitor and leader of the charge against evil. Instead of a break, it felt like every time she turned around there was some new disaster that they were facing.

The conclave, the horrible future in Redcliffe, the destruction of Haven, the ordeal that was Adamant, then almost losing Cullen to his brave fight against lyrium, along with her harrowing near death experience, followed immediately by her family trying to kill everything good in the world. How much was too much, exactly? At what point would she be able to rest her head against her pillow and know she had done everything that she had needed to do?

She was crying when she opened the door to her room, unable to check the tears as they flowed down her face. Perhaps if she gave herself some time to fall apart she could feel more like herself again.

She was startled when strong, warm arms wrapped around her, scooping her into his chest. The familiar smell of Cullen filled her nose, and she clasped herself to him, feeling like she was being engulfed in sunshine. He was radiating heat, missing his usual armor, and she buried her face into his chest, relishing in the solid strength that only he could provide. She listened to his heart beat against her ear, the steady thrum calming like nothing else in the world.

“My love.” he said, his own voice broken. She looked up into his face and his lips met hers immediately, softly parting as his tongue sought to taste her. She moaned deep in her throat, her body awakening in the presence of his own.

She felt him reach an arm behind her and push the door closed before pulling her towards the stairs, leading her firmly to the bed. Yes, this is what she wanted, what she needed. Her tears gone, her sadness forgotten. This was everything that she required to feel like a real person again, his touch on her body, lighting her up like a comet across the darkest skies.

He was pulling her clothes off and kissing her with maddening sweetness, tingles sprouting wherever his mouth touched skin. She pulled at his own garments, getting his shirt over his head and tossing it away roughly, scraping her fingers against any part of him that she could find. She undid the knot in his pants and they fell away, revealing his impressive length. She grabbed it and caressed it slowly, reveling in the silken warmth that permeated from him, making him moan piteously against the side of her neck. He picked her up and tossed her on the bed in one swift motion. She bounced there only for a moment before he was on top of her, kissing her neck fervently as he parted her legs with his hand. He slipped his fingers through her, moaning as he felt how ready she was for him. Her hips flexed automatically, seeking him out, pressing upward for the closeness that she craved. He moved his fingers in and out of her in rhythm with her hips for several pumps before he drew his hand away, leaving her feeling cold and empty at the loss of his touch.

Then he was pushing into her and she felt her muscles contract with pleasure, the familiar burn of desire building in her belly. She cried out, unable to help herself as he sank all the way in, hitting that spot deep inside her that made her blind with pleasure. She arched into him, her hips mirroring his thrust as they became one. He stirred in and out of her slowly, savoring every inch of movement, driving the breath from her as her body begged for more. Her mind was reeling with need, agonized as she waited for him to take her faster, give her the release that she needed before she died from want of it. She heard herself whimper into his ear before she could help it, and he thrust into her hard in response, a deep groan escaping his lips that she felt rumble through her whole body. She whimpered again, on purpose this time, and bit into the area just under his ear, dragging her teeth across the sensitive skin. His body reacted immediately, and she felt him tense as he claimed her lips with his again, searing her mouth with fire as he rested his arms on either side of their interlocked bodies.

Then she was lost in rocking waves of desire as he abandoned his restraint and took her, diving in and out of her over and over again until she felt like she was lost at sea, drifting amidst waters that threatened to carry her sanity away with them. The ache in her stomach was building to a tidal wave, she could feel it cresting, ready to crash down on her, every muscle pulled taught and ready. She was crying out his name, moaning it in his ear because she knew what that did to him, knew that it would unravel him as surely as he was unraveling her. With a cry he released into her, just as her own peak hit, sending them tumbling over the edge together. She arched her back helplessly against him, digging her fingers into his perfectly sculpted shoulders, warm pleasure tearing through her and blocking all her senses with wondrous orgasm.

He kissed her swollen lips deeply, his relief palpable before he rolled off of her and lay next to her, his hand stoking her chest in gentle circles as he gazed into her eyes.

“Are you alright?” he asked her as he absentmindedly played with her nipple.

“I am now.” she said, knowing what he meant. He pulled her close, cradling her in a hug that felt like a panacea for her tumultuous mood earlier.

“That bad?” he kissed her neck softly, rubbing his lips against her tingling skin.

She let out a heavy sigh. “It always is.” she kissed the arm that was wrapped around her. “But it's okay, I'm good at dealing with bad.” she snuggled into him, feeling more like herself again. He laughed at her comment.

“If by 'dealing with it' you mean causing endless amounts of trouble for the rest of us, then sure.”

She spun around in his arms, giving him a stern glare. “I have done no such thing.”

“Do you even know how many letters Josephine has had to send promising that we don't have a flaming demon in our employ?”

“What?! I don't see how that's my responsibility.” She huffed and flopped onto her back.

“And who's idea was it to set Cassandra on fire?” he smirked at her, eyes twinkling in smug satisfaction.

“I made a tactical decision that got us through the quarry in record time, with _no_ casualties, thank you very much.”

“Says the ever sensible leader.” he chuckled, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

“Hush, or this very sensible leader will order you back to your own quarters in the exact state of undress you are in right now.” she tilted her chin up at him, giving him a haughty scowl. There, she thought, that would teach him. She yelped with surprise when he flipped on top of her, grabbing her wrists firmly and pinning her down. She could feel him pressing against her again, ready once more, and her traitorous body reacted immediately, lightning shooting through her nerves. His eyes bored into hers, molten amber hungrily devouring every inch of her face.

“You are not the commander in here, dear heart.” he husked, and kissed her roughly, pulling a moan from the both of them. He would get no protests from her on that count.

 

 


	55. Truth or Dare, Hummingbird?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we set out to Orlais!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody check it out, I just found out Autumn has a theme song. 
> 
> spotify link: https://open.spotify.com/track/7cLkiMBoZ76q14B6FTvboB  
> youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qfWtOn3yOf8
> 
> I think it suits her perfectly, and the tone kind of fits this chapter so have a listen! :)

  
_Attention:_

_All Inquisition members attending the ball at the Winter Palace must report to either First Enchanter Vivienne or Lady Josephine Montilyet to sign up for dance lessons. No exceptions!_

(underneath this proclamation was a picture of a butt with male genitalia attached to it, and a message scrawled in rather untidy handwriting)

_Get bent!_

(Sera had written her name 37 times beneath this and drawn several other butts, one of them with a crown labeled 'Inquisitor of the butts')

(Another script was added below this in a neat, flowery handwriting)

_Surely those of us who can present ourselves in public already won't have to attend?_

(another note was added in blocky but neat script)

_Tevinter mages couldn't dance their way out of a summoning circle. -Bull_

(several more pictures were drawn of a stick figure with a large mustache, dancing with a stick figure that was most likely a Qunari. Not all of the images were of dancing. There were also several more butts.)

(Another paper pinned below the first)

_NO EXCEPTIONS._

 

***

Everyone was ready to kill Vivienne and Josephine by the time the week of lessons was over. Autumn, once upon a time, had thought that dancing lessons sounded fun. The idea of a grand ball had sounded fun. After three hours of trying to move around in heels while Vivienne rapped her knuckles for the thousandth time because she hadn’t kept her posture straight enough, Autumn was not only prepared to never dance again, she was prepared to literally burn Orlais to the ground to avoid going to this ball. When Josephine had politely informed her that this was not an option, she had been forced to continue showing up to the dance lessons, secretly vowing to make sure that the next time they had some business in the Fallow Mire she would insist Vivienne accompany her just so she could push her into the bog.

Autumn was not the only one thoroughly frazzled by the end of the week. Most of the inner circle had suffered the same level of scrutiny as Autumn had, being reprimanded for every little movement that was out of place until they all wanted to run screaming from the hall. Sera had been threatening to blow open a crate full of bees since Tuesday. Oddly enough, the one person who seemed to be enjoying the whole process was Bull, who danced beautifully. Dorian nearly had a stroke when the Qunari had led Vivienne in a long promenade, twirling her effortlessly through the room as though he had invented the steps.

Then there had been the disaster that was getting everyone fitted for the event. The Inquisition had spent a small fortune getting some of the finest tailors hauled out to Skyhold to make the outfits. The original intent had been that the women would all wear dresses while the men wore clones of the same dress uniforms. After Sera had tried to throw one of the tailors over the balcony for suggesting that she wear pink, it was decided that perhaps everyone except the Inquisitor should wear the dress uniforms. Which had nearly broken Cole's heart, because he had apparently been dying to wear a pretty ballgown. When he was asked why, he said that Autumn was wearing one, and he wanted to look beautiful like her, which created one of those rare moments where everyone in the room sighs out a sincere “Awe” and wipes away the tears threatening to spill out due to the overload of precious. The moment was promptly destroyed when the jacket Bull had squeezed into ripped apart, right down the middle, causing him to curse while the rest of them laughed hysterically and the exasperated tailors went back to the drawing board.

Autumn had tried to make the case for wearing the uniform herself, but it was a losing battle before it had even started. She was the Inquisitor, all eyes would be on her, she had to look the part. So, she had been paraded in front of Vivienne, Josephine, and Leliana for several afternoons while they shoved her into what she was sure had been a thousand different dresses. After the first day, she learned that her opinion did not matter one iota, and given in to the whims of the others. She couldn't say that she hated the dress they had finally decided on, however. It was lovely, in fact, and was very flattering on her figure, but she still fretted about wearing something so elegant. Her coordination in these kinds of situations was not always stellar. She hadn't even been allowed to show it to anyone to seek outside opinions. Leliana had insisted that they keep it a secret until the night of the ball so she could have a truly grand entrance.

After all the bustle and preparation, it had felt like they would never be able to leave. They had finally set out on the road, piled into fancy carriages provided by the Duke. They would be staying in a Villa with Grand Duke Gaspard for a week before the ball, a courtesy extended to them since he was their escort for the evening.

Autumn and Cullen had been put under strict instructions to keep their relationship on the down low, to avoid any scandals that their pairing might cause. Autumn had wanted to argue, to insist that whatever uproar it might cause she would gladly deal with, that she didn't want to hide her relationship, but Josephine was relentless when it came to Orlais. Autumn was positive that the court probably already knew all about it, but once again she was met with the indomitable wall of Josephine and her diplomatic plans.

By the time she had finally climbed into the carriage she was sharing with Bull, Varric, Dorian, and Solas to head to the Villa, Autumn knew that she hated politics, she hated balls, and most of all she hated Orlais.

***

“You lost the hand, so follow the rules. Truth or dare, Hummingbird?” Varric leaned back in the seat to regard her with a smugness that made her wish she could stab a fork into his knee. Autumn watched him balefully, wondering why she had agreed to play this game in the first place – she was terrible at cards. Now she found herself in the precarious situation of losing to a group of people that likely had it out for her. The carriage was filled to bursting, Sera, Cassandra, and Blackwall piling in when they had found out about the game of cards, adding to the already full capacity. They were all currently sandwiched together, leaning over the center where the card game was taking place on the floor, the idea of personal space having been thrown out the window and left somewhere on the Orlesian roadside.

“Alright, fine...truth...?” she winced at the end of the word as though just the idea were painful.

Bull's chuckle rumbled from his chest next to her, and she shot him a dirty look. “Make it good, dwarf. You waste this opportunity I might never forgive you.”

“Oh believe me, I don't plan on it. I have been waiting to get details out of her for _ages_...” he rubbed his hands together gleefully.

Autumn groaned. “Does it have to be about Cullen? Can't you ask me about something else?”

Varric arched an eyebrow at her. “I could always ask for details about a certain former Antivan crow you never mentioned to me before.” He sounded miffed at her omission.

Autumn flopped against the padding on the seat, sighing dramatically. “Why is my sex life so very important to you, you foul little beast?”

“Perhaps you shouldn't broadcast your activities so...loudly.” Cassandra suggested tartly, the muscles in her jaw twitching as she tried to prevent her lips from lifting in a smirk.

“Maker's balls...”Autumn swore, feeling her cheeks heat.

Sera cackled maniacally at that, slapping her knee. “ _Someone’s_ balls, that's for sure.”

The entire group laughed, and Autumn let herself sink lower in the seat, sliding far enough that her knees touched Blackwall's across from her.

“Alright, alright, get on with the blasted question so we can move on with the game before I start getting greys.” Dorian insisted.

“Okay....truth. Where did you and Curly officially seal the deal?” Varric asked, his Maker forsaken eyebrows wiggling at her salaciously.

“Where?” she blinked at him for a moment, flabbergasted. “Why, near his quarters, of course.” she crossed her arms, trying to appear casual, willing him not to ask her to clarify.

“ _Near_ his quarters?” Dorian leaned forward, grinning at her. “Precisely how _near_ , love?”

“Is this necessary? Can you not play for money instead?” Solas grumbled from next to her, his face contorted in a grimace of epic proportions.

Autumn bumped her shoulder into his, smiling at him. “My hero.”

“What fun would that be?” Bull complained.

“I would suggest playing for dignity, but it appears none of you have any.” Solas added, smiling at her despite himself. She rewarded him with a bubbling giggle.

“Hey, you’re not getting out of it that easily. The question stands, and _you_ need to clarify.” Varric demanded, pointing a finger at her in righteous accusation.

“Indeed, for the sake of those in need of new material...” Dorian purred.

“That is profoundly disturbing.” she told him, rolling her eyes.

“You’re not the first to say so, and darling I am positive you will not be the last.” he grinned, unperturbed.

“Fine, it was in his office, on the desk. Happy?” she huffed, glaring at the lot of them. They erupted into laughter. “Bastards.”

“Okay, 'nough of that pish. Deal again, I wanna win a hand or two.” Sera had a mischievous glint in her eyes that should have served as a warning, to more level headed observers.

“You sure you won't play Chuckles?” Varric asked Solas as he shuffled the cards again.

“I am quite sure, thank you.” he replied with so much dignity that it put the rest of them to shame. Not that any of them cared.

Varric dealt the cards and the game continued well into the night. Several other rounds of truth were handed out revealing that Sera had never once slept with a man (citing reasons of “yuck” and “too pointy”), Blackwall used expensive Orlesian shampoo on his beard, Cassandra once wrote an extra scene about the characters in Varric's books when she felt he had “left something out”, and Dorian once had a threesome with a woman that left him utterly confused as to how anybody could ever find plumbing so confusing attractive. The dares of the evening included Bull allowing Dorian to cast a glamour turning his horns pink for the rest of the game, Dorian being asked to play the rest of the hands topless (which he did with only minimal preening), Blackwall being forced to give Varric a foot massage, Autumn having to shout “I like fur pauldrons and I cannot lie” out the window at the top of her lungs, and Sera having to stand on the roof of the carriage and sing part of the chant of light while juggling jars full of bees (which ended horrendously bad for the carriage behind them and put an end to their game when Vivienne threatened to put them all in a deep freeze).

Even after the game was over, they remained huddled together, talking until slowly everyone had drifted off to sleep. Cassandra had somehow fallen over so that her head was in Varric's lap with his arm slung over her shoulders, her knees brought up onto the seat over Blackwall's lap as he slumped against the wall of the cart. Varric leaned against Sera's legs on the other side, the elf having passed out upside down so her head was on Bull's calves. Dorian was pressed into Bull's shoulder, snoring so softly that it was more of a snuffle, and Bull was leaning back into him, giving Autumn just enough room to breathe on her side, although she was still pressed against both him and Solas.

Solas and herself were the only two left awake at this point, Autumn finding it almost impossible to sleep with the carriage swaying so erratically. She glanced over and saw Solas watching her, and he gave her one of his soft smiles.

“You should get some sleep, Lethallan. We have a long way to go yet.” his voice was a murmur, so as not to wake the others.

“I don't think I can.” she shrugged at him, a movement that sent him jostling against her.

He chuckled as they hit a bump in the road and crashed together. “I believe I can relate to the feeling.”

“Sorry you got crammed in here with all of us.” She gave him an apologetic grin.

His smile broadened. “It is no trouble.”

For awhile after they fell silent, watching each other in the dark of the carriage.There was next to no light, only a faint silver glow slipping in from the window on the opposite side of where they sat. He looked otherworldly, eyes glittering like pools of blue starlight, watching her with interest. She wished that they weren't always filled with such sorrow. Autumn often found herself wishing that she could find out what made him so sad and make it better, reach into that quiet solitude that he put up around himself and scoop out what ailed him. It was painful to see her dear friend so melancholy all of the time, especially when it was in her nature to try and cheer those around her.

“Are you happy, Solas?” the question slipped from her lips before she gave it leave, her heart being pulled by those eyes that she just wanted to see shine with happiness for once.

He blinked at her a moment, his expression unreadable. “I am...” his eyes darted away for a moment, looking to the floor before meeting hers again. He seemed as though he wanted to look away, but couldn't. She adjusted herself so that she could look at him more evenly, taking his hand in hers.

“You can tell me.” she urged, wishing that he would be honest with her about what troubled him.

He looked at their hands, trailing his thumb along her knuckles as he silently contemplated their fingers. “I am only worried about...what is to come.” he said finally, his voice forlorn. She squeezed his hand and rested her head against his shoulder.

“We will succeed.” she promised him. Unexpectedly she yawned, feeling a fatigue that she hadn't thought would come start creeping up on her.

She felt his chuckle rather than heard it. “Sleep, Lethallan. Do not trouble yourself over me.”

She gripped his hand, preventing him from pulling it away. “I can't help but worry for those I care for, Solas.”

If he spoke more she didn't hear it, as her eyes closed and sleep finally took her.

***

If fate were a person, if the world's strings were indeed being played by some entity or another, a discordant violin whose tune could not be heard by mortal ears, Solas was positive that they were sadistic. Or that they hated him. Perhaps the latter was closer to the truth than anything.

He held her hand and willed himself not to cry. She rested gently against his shoulder, breath coming in long, even pulls as she slept more peacefully than he would have thought a human capable of. Her face, delicately aglow in the soft moonlight, was serene in her slumber. He stared at her longingly, wondering where her mind took her in the fade, wondering if she found happiness while her fingers twined with his. It was torture. Sweet, unrelenting torture, but he could not bring himself to let her go, could not bring himself to loosen the hold that she had on his heart. Even if at times he was sure that it would kill him, drive him to madness, he could not bring himself to release this feeling.

Solas was drawn to her as though she held a piece of him. Like she was some missing memory torn from his mind at the dawn of time, a part of his soul that he never even knew was gone until he met it again. Through the fire and disaster that was this world, she had walked out of the fade and into his life like a vision. She was a spirit of chaos, of mischief, of smiles and giggles and unyielding friendship that burned brightly for those that she allowed. She _was_ the world, and Solas worshiped her as surely as if she were the goddess that had created them all.

So Solas held her hand and memorized her skin, and tried to be content with what gifts he was granted. Whatever she gave him would have to be enough.

 


	56. Point Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we arrive at Gaspard's estate.

As the carriages finally pulled into the gates of Villa de Courgenay the sun was slipping past the horizon, the Orlesian countryside painted in the brilliant pinks, golds, and lavenders of the ending day. They rode through the tall shrubs that constituted the fence around the estate and down the long, greenery lined path that led to the actual house, a mansion that was large enough to encompass a party several times larger than the one meant to occupy it currently. Flowers bloomed everywhere that Cullen looked, perfuming the air with the heavy scents of roses and lavender, among other less recognizable varieties. The Villa itself was a tall, rectangular building, three stories high and painted a cheery shade of blue, trimmed with pure white. Large golden statues of roaring lions sat on either side of the road, interspersed evenly as they approached the building.

Upon reaching the doors to the Villa the carriages finally stopped. The sun had given its final farewell, sending the oranges away to bathe the sky in the hesitant purple that led to night's deep blue. The light being cast from the house, a multitude of candles and torches lit within, left bright panels of white against the ground, punctured with darker shadows in between, standing out starkly now that it no longer competed against the dying light of the sun. Cullen climbed out of the carriage, stretching as he felt his boots grind into the gravel that lined the approach. He helped the other advisors out shortly after, everyone making the same moves to relax muscles taught from bouncing around over the course of the long journey. Behind them the second carriage pulled up, and he watched as Autumn and her traveling companions hopped out, their relief at being done with being on the road evident in their smiling faces. Cullen shook his head when most of the inner circle flowed out of the single carriage, wondering how they had managed to stand being crammed in the tiny space for so long. Then again, he had wished he were able to join them. Josephine had forbidden it, but he would have been there if it had been up to him. Perhaps _he_ would have been able to prevent the great bee fiasco that had nearly killed a good pair of horses and delayed the journey for a good hour.

Autumn jogged over to them, her curls bouncing in a way that made her look several years younger, the picture of sprightly enthusiasm. “I trust your ride was smooth?”

“It would have been smoother if we hadn't needed to stop every hour to allow your group to switch carriages.” Josephine grumbled, her usual cheery demeanor beaten out of her by the bumpy road.

“Come now Josie, it wasn't so terrible. At least _we_ had room to breathe.” Leliana scolded her, giving Autumn a cheeky grin.

Autumn shrugged. “What can I say? I'm irresistible.” She winked at Cullen and he rolled his eyes.

“As long as everyone kept their clothes on.” he told her.

“Dorian doesn't count right?” she asked him, laughing when he scowled at her.

“Maker's breath...” he mumbled, wondering if he even wanted to know what had happened in that carriage.

They were interrupted by the doors to the Villa opening, and a tall man dressed in typical Orlesian finery strode down the steps, an air of confidence in every movement of his body.

“Ah, Inquisition, I presume?” he asked, looking at each one of them in turn. His eyes fell on Autumn and he held them there, keeping them locked in place as he closed the distance between them. “You must be the famed Inquisitor Trevelyan, then.” he took her hand and brought it to his lips as he dipped himself low in a bow. “The rumors do not do your beauty justice, my lady.”

She smiled stiffly, pulling her hand away as gently as she possibly could. “Thank you.”

“Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons, at your service.” he grinned smugly at her, a man used to having his title garner a reaction.

“Thank you, Ser de Chalons.” her smile was easier now, but Cullen did not miss the almost imperceptible twitch of her eyebrow.

“Gaspard, please.” he admonished her. She nodded.

“Gaspard, allow me to introduce my fellow leaders, Lady Josephine Montilyet, Sister Leliana, and Commander Cullen Rutherford.” Autumn gestured toward the three advisors. Leliana and Josephine bowed, receiving a bow in turn, and Cullen stuck his hand out. Gaspard took it and shook it firmly, eying him appraisingly.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Come, let us retire to the parlor. I am sure you would all welcome some refreshments after such a long journey.” he clapped his gloved hands together, turning and walking back inside as the group trailed after him. Cullen saw Autumn wave farewell to her friends before they were ushered inside by servants and into the parlor down the hall.

***

Bull watched discreetly as Dorian reached his hands in the air, stretching his muscles like a cat waking from a nap. There was something decidedly feline in the way his body moved, all grace and fine lines, tawny skin drawn over elegant muscles. A small yawn worked its way through his lips, and he released the stretch, rubbing at his eyes in a gesture so endearing that it was hard not to want to rush up and kiss his temple. An urge which made Bull wholly uncomfortable, being something that he was entirely unfamiliar with. He turned his gaze away, catching sight of Solas as he watched Autumn disappear into the Villa.

“Worried the Orlesians might devour her alive?” Bull asked him, smiling when the elf jumped.

Solas scowled for a moment, but then his mouth quirked into one of those subtle smirks that he often had. “More likely she would do the devouring.”

Bull threw his head back and laughed, appreciating the truth of the statement. “It's gonna be a wild ride.”

“Indeed.” Solas replied distractedly, his mind already moving away from the present conversation. Bull allowed him to wander off towards the Villa, the rest of them drifting in that direction as their luggage was unloaded by a flurry of servants, swarming around them like ants on dribbled sweetbread crumbs. They were led into the Villa and instructed to select whichever rooms they felt comfortable in amongst those in the east wing, a long hallway of doors equidistant from one another now spread out before them.

Despite his best efforts, his gaze roamed back over to Dorian. It was hard not to smile as he watched him bicker animatedly with Vivienne over the room that, from what he could gather, had the nicest bathing chamber attached. Dorian balked at the idea of giving it up, Vivienne insisted that he couldn't possibly need it as much as she did. They went round and round for several sarcasm filled moments before Dorian finally relented, stomping off in a huff. The Tevinter turned, catching Bull watching him, and sent a glare his way.

“What's so funny?” he spat, and Bull realized that he had been smirking.

“You're very cute when you get wound up.” he drawled, giving him a heated look.

Dorian made a very angry noise in the back of his throat that could rival Cassandra, and continued his stomping towards his second choice for a room. Bull watched him go and held in the sigh that he felt building in his chest.

He had been trying his very best to treat the man better, at least better in comparison to when they had first met. He could not seem to stop himself from flirting, however, and he couldn't tell if it made everything worse or not. Sometimes he caught glances from the man that had enough longing they could bring a warrior to his knees, but most of the time he was hit with a wall of enraged indignation. Part of him enjoyed it, like a hunter stalking an elusive prey, waiting for a hint of weakness so he could strike. But another part of him was done with it, done with the theatrics, done with the games. He wanted to be able to sit down with him and actually explain how he felt, without the caustic veil of venom present between them.

Then again _that_ idea was terrifying. Bull hadn't exactly confessed feelings to anyone before. In fact, _feelings_ usually didn't enter into the picture at all, so this was entirely new territory for him. He was not an idiot, though, and he knew himself well enough to know that he didn't just want to fuck Dorian, that his attraction to the man was deeper than something physical. What he couldn't decipher was if the mage felt the same. Dorian was clearly a man who didn't do anything half way, so was his posturing all a front for something more? Or did he truly feel offended by the way Bull treated him? Sometimes Bull was convinced the slight pink heating the man's cheeks meant there was more there, more in those green-grey eyes that he just refused to admit to. Other times Dorian looked so mad that Bull was positive he hated him.

“You know, it might be easier if you actually talked to him.” Varric's smug voice drifted up to him, startling Bull out of his thoughts. He jumped and glared down at the dwarf.

“Right, says the guy _stroking people’s hair_ while they sleep and don't think anybody's watching.”

Bull was gratified that Varric stiffened, his smile fading rather fast. “You say a word, Tiny, I swear -”

“My lips are sealed.” he grinned and Varric shook his head.

“Road trips are never a good idea.” the dwarf grumbled as he walked away.

Bull laughed to himself as he went off to find his own room. At least he wasn't the only one with relationship problems.

*******

The parlor was lavishly decorated, plush carpeting in a variety of garish colors stretching across the floor, ornately etched seating placed ostentatiously around the fireplace, whose mantle was marble carved intricately with images of lions and chevalier helmets. The room could not have been more Orlesian if it had an accent, which was both impressive and unnerving to Cullen. Orlesians made him instinctively uncomfortable. Part of that was on the grounds that he was Ferelden, and it was simply in his blood to resent them after what they had done to his country not all that long ago. The other part was that he absolutely detested the games the nobles played, and indeed seemed to relish. He understood the need of politics, and could partake just as much as any man when necessary, but he far preferred a more direct approach. The entire charade of the ball and the assassins lurking around every corner with an empress too stubborn to heed normal warnings was enough to irritate him to the point of brooding. Being forced to participate was just the cherry on top of the poisoned sundae.

Cullen resisted the urge to glower as Gaspard placed his hand on Autumn's back, guiding her into the room and towards a seat. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Let the man think he had half a chance. Cullen knew the truth of it. He could bear the brunt of watching the man flounder as long as she was still waiting for him at the end of it all, when they returned to Skyhold.

They sat in the chairs offered, and each accepted a drink from the servants, who quickly extricated themselves from the room after everyone had settled. Gaspard gave them all a deceptively amiable smile as he strode over and perched himself on the arm rest of Autumn's chair rather than taking his own seat. Cullen nearly choked on a piece of ice that marauded its way down his throat at his sharp intake of breath.

“So, I trust you did not find travel too dreary, Inquisitor? The roads can be precarious during these troubled times.” Gaspard was gazing down at her with half lidded eyes. Cullen caught Josephine glancing his way, a slight nod from her head serving as a silent warning that he should behave. Cullen forced himself to relax back into his seat, the posture feeling wholly unnatural as he watched another man attempt to flirt with Autumn. Perhaps he could not bear this as much as he would like to think.

Autumn shifted in her chair, creating a subtle increase of space between her and the Duke. She gave him a sweet smile, sipping her drink before responding. “Thank you. I am not overly unused to precarious situations, but I found the ride to be relatively uneventful.”

Leliana snorted softly but didn't comment, and Cullen felts his lips twitch with the urge to smirk. Uneventful indeed. There was a swarm of bees somewhere that would heartily disagree.

“That is good news indeed, my lady. It would be shameful if something were to befall such an enchanting creature as yourself.” the Duke bowed his head towards her, eyes watching her every move. Autumn's eyebrow lifted as she regarded him, taking another well timed sip of her drink The firelight reflected off the thick glass of her cup, sending dancing spots of light across her face and the room, making her look as though she sparkled.

“Indeed.” was all she replied, giving the Duke a look that Cullen couldn't read. Was she flirting with him? His heart did an awkward somersault in his chest at the idea.

After what seemed like a wholly inappropriate amount of time, the Duke finally tore his eyes away from her and faced the other three in the room. “You must be looking forward to the festivities. I imagine it has been some time since you have been able to visit the courts, Lady Montilyet.”

Josephine flashed him a dazzling grin, her cheeks rising merrily with the action. “Absolutely, Grand Duke. It will be good to experience the subtleties of Orlais once more.”

Gaspard nodded in response before he turned his eyes to Cullen. “Commander, I have a number of my chevalier staying with us here in the Villa. I thought you might be interested in speaking with them at some point. I'm sure we could exchange training and tactics that you would find invaluable.” He took a pull of his drink, his eyes dancing with mirth as he watched for Cullen's response. “Consider it my contribution to the Inquisition.”

The veiled insult was not lost on him, the very subtle insinuation that his own methods were lacking, but he wasn't about to give the Duke the satisfaction of knowing that. Instead he smiled warmly, tilting his cup in a salute. “That would be marvelous, I'm sure. I'm always in favor of learning something new.”

“Our Commander is very dedicated to our cause.” Autumn purred, batting her eyelashes at Cullen slightly. Gaspard missed the exchange, and by the time he turned back she was looking up at the Duke with a winning smile.

“I would expect no less from anyone you had chosen, my lady.” Gaspard murmured, brazenly brushing a lock of her hair away from her face.

She cleared her throat, looking over to Cullen with a slight flush on her face. Ah, Cullen thought, perhaps she had not intended to flirt after all. Or at least she hadn't meant to encourage such familiarity. Cullen clenched his jaw and met her eyes, trying not to growl. He had just finished his dance around the ego of one man who thought he could lay claim to his love, must he be forced to do it again?

“I hate to be ungracious, but I think I am ready to retire for the evening.” she said suddenly, standing and setting her drink down on the table. Gaspard smiled as though this were some sort of personal victory for him. Makers breath, did the man think he was affecting her with his advances? The smug chuckle he let out lent credence to this theory, and Cullen was starting to wonder if he would be committing murder and ending the civil war before they even reached the ball.

“Of course, forgive me. Keeping you up after your tiring journey. Allow me to escort you to your room.” Gaspard said, offering her his arm. She took it, shooting an apologetic look at Cullen as the Duke led her out of the room. “The servants shall show you to your quarters, my friends. Until tomorrow.” and with a wave he was gone, the door being shut behind him quietly.

Cullen turned to Josephine and leveled a glare at her that would usually send any of his troops running in terror. Josephine straightened her already rigid posture, returning his gaze with just as much heat. A silent argument passed between them over the situation they were in, neither of them needing to voice their opinions again, as they had already done so, frequently, in the days leading up to their arrival.

“Stop pouting like some wounded animal, Commander. Try to think of the possibilities here.” Leliana whispered in his ear. He jumped. He hadn't even seen her move from her chair. He scowled at her, knowing she meant that leading the Duke on could bring them information and favors. He was not thrilled at using Autumn as bait, but it seemed the situation was out of his hands. Tossing back the rest of his drink he stood, nodding to the waiting servant to be led to his quarters. This was going to be a very, very long week.

***

_Phantom,_

_Are you certain? I see no evidence to support these claims._

_-Knight_

_***_

_Seeker,_

_If you wanted you could help write the next chapter of Swords and Shields._

_-Varric_

 

_Varric,_

_I am three doors down from you. Why are you sending a letter? If you have something to say just come talk to me._

_-Cassandra_

 

_Seeker,_

_Because you can't punch me via parchment._

_-Varric_

 

_Seeker,_

_I heard that exasperated sigh. You haven't answered my question._

_-Varric_

 

_Varric,_

_Stop writing me._

_-Cassandra_

 

_Seeker,_

_At least let me see what you wrote. I'm dying to know what you thought I left out._

_-Varric_

 

_Seeker,_

_Point taken. You didn't have to walk over and punch me._

_-Varric_

 


	57. General's Information Confirmed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cullen has jealousy issues, and they don't go unnoticed.

Dorian nursed his wine as though afraid if he waited too many moments in between sips the whole world might disappear underneath his feet. He had been in a foul mood ever since he had woken up in that Void taken carriage snuggled against Bull as though he were the most comfortable bed he had ever slept in. The fact that those particular robes still smelled of the Qunari irked him to no end, and so he found himself in the garden, sitting over a chessboard with an equally disgruntled Commander, while trying very hard to not concentrate on precisely how well he had slept on the road.

Cullen was losing. Horribly, in fact. In addition to that, he had not once chided Dorian for cheating, perhaps had not even _noticed_ the pieces missing from play suddenly, which was all evidence to the fact that their stalwart ex-templar had his own distractions today. Dorian suspected it had a lot to do with the irritating Duke that was currently parading their Inquisitor around the garden as though topiary were the secret to getting into women's smalls.

“Cullen, are you even trying today?” Dorian asked him finally, bringing those honey eyes away from the sight of Gaspard's palm on Autumn's shoulder and back to the moment at hand.

“My turn? Sorry.” he furrowed his brow and glared at the board, no doubt not even really seeing it.

“While your jealousy is rather fetching, I feel it my duty to point out that you have nothing to worry about. You know that, right?” he smiled easily at the Commander, his tone as sincere as he could make it.

“I...” Cullen looked at him, and Dorian could see the wheels of his mind turning away as he decided whether or not to admit to the insinuation. “He is far too brazen, and I have only _just_ won back the right to call her mine after that ordeal with her family.” he said in a low voice, moving one of his pieces to a seemingly random square. Dorian leaned forward and promptly took it with one of his own, not even needing to cheat to exploit the poor strategy.

“Yes, _ordeal_. Quite the accurate word for it. I can't fathom what that must have been like from your point of view.” Dorian sipped at his wine again, considering his situation. “That doesn't change the truth, however. You really don't have anything to worry about.”

Cullen scrubbed at his face with his hand irritably. “I know that...it's not...it isn't jealousy, per se. It's more... _territorial_. I know she isn't interested in him, but I wand _him_ to know that. I'm being boorish, I know.”

“Be still, my beating heart!” Dorian cried, fanning himself as he bat his eyes. Cullen glowered, moving another of his pieces before glancing back to the garden, where Gaspard had taken to demonstrating a sword technique of some kind. Autumn's face was a mask of polite interest, but Dorian could see by the set of her shoulders and the dead, glassy look in her eyes that she was wishing this whole week was over and done with. “Relax, Cullen. I'm sure after all this is over Josie will finally let you... _stake your claim_ to our dear leader, so to speak.”

Cullen shot him a withering look. “I'd thought I had already done that, and yet suddenly Thedas seems filled with her suitors.”

“You know nobles. If there isn't a ring on her finger, they can't take a hint...and even that's not always a strong enough deterrent.”

Cullen snorted. “At least then I'd have grounds for murdering them.” he looked up quickly, horror overtaking his features for a moment when he realized he'd said that out loud. Dorian laughed, tossing his head back and enjoying the blush on the blonde man's cheeks.

“Keep your sword sheathed, Commander. We have enough problems without having to face the full wrath of the chevaliers.”

“Were you and Josephine not correct on that count, I would have dragged us all back to Skyhold by now.” he groused, shoulders sagging slightly in defeat.

“I _am_ looking forward to another rousing card game.” Dorian added cheerily, snickering as Cullen rolled his eyes.

“Maker save the bees.”

They both laughed, continuing their sorry game as they waited for the dinner bell to call them back inside.

***

_Knight,_

_I don't know, General insists it's true. Keep watching them._

_-Phantom_

*******

Autumn's face hurt from the fake smile that had been plastered there all day. She wished desperately that she could slip away, possibly pummel something to death to let out some steam. A sparring match with Bull would have done nicely, or perhaps a nice, long dragon fight. Spending the day being shown around by Gaspard certainly put her in a murderous mood.

If she were at all sensible, she would stand up, march around this dinner table, and mount Cullen right there in front of everyone. Well, perhaps _sensible_ wasn't the word, but it would certainly be more satisfying than accepting another glass of wine from _Grand Duke Gaspard, the World’s Most Honorable Chevalier,_ who thought more about his accomplishments in battle than the chantry thought about the Maker. It would be comical if she were at all allowed to use any of her wit to toy with the man, but Josephine's baleful eyes were on her at all times, the diplomat ready to pounce if she set so much as a syllable out of line. Gaspard was not stupid enough to miss it if she _were_ to start mocking him, anyways, and would surely take offense. So she was forced to be the picture of politeness, accepting his garish complements and attempts to woo her. She wasn't sure if he was trying to bed her for the hell of it or if he actually thought a union with her would put the power of the Inquisition at his disposal. Either explanation was plausible at this point.

She spared a glance for Cullen, seated across from her at the large table, impossibly out of reach. She wished she could say something to reassure him, as he looked as though he had swallowed a particularly angry bronto, although he was doing his best not to show it. He was not handling Gaspard's attention to her well, which she could understand. _She_ wasn't handling it well, so she could only imagine what it must feel like for him. His reaction was a little flattering, if she were being honest, but she would never admit that to him. After what they had just been through she didn't mind him being a little possessive. Although it would be a whole lot nicer if he could _actually_ be possessive. She owed Josephine something fierce for this whole fiasco. Maybe next time she went to the Fallow Mire her and Vivienne could _both_ go swimming in the bog.

“My lady?” Gaspard's voice drifted through her reverie, and she blinked at him, realizing that he had been talking to her. Again.

“My apologies, Ser. I believe I missed what you were saying. Do continue.” she said, as polite as she could possibly be.

“I only wished to offer my condolences over your family. Such gruesome business, or so I heard.” his face was the picture of contriteness.

“Ah. Yes, thank you. It was a trying affair.” she took a delicate sip of her wine as she thought over her next words. “Were it not for my wonderful advisors, things could have been far worse, however.” she titled her glass towards Cullen. Perhaps if she just repeatedly gushed about his accomplishments all evening the Duke would lay off. Then again, Josie would probably object to even that small act of rebellion.

“It was splendid work, I am sure. I must ask, however, does this mean that you are no longer...betrothed?” his eyes were glittering as he gave her a charming smile. Autumn could feel the muscles around her eye twitch in an effort not to roll them at the man.

She settled for raising a brow at him. “To a man who was plotting to murder me as a favor for Corypheus? Who is now, in addition to that, dead? No, my good Duke. I am not still betrothed.” she tried to keep her voice light, but the sarcasm bled through anyways. It _was_ a stupid question, after all.

Gaspard laughed merrily, taking her tone in stride. “Forgive me, I only wanted to confirm your...availability.”

“I am...” she trailed off as she caught the look from Josephine, smile frozen on her face while her eyes tried to set Autumn on fire. At least that's what it looked like Josephine was trying to do. Autumn was grateful that their ambassador was not a mage, or she might have remarkably less eye brows than she currently had. “I am not betrothed.” she ended lamely, wishing that she could add that she would never be betrothed to a man like Gaspard in a million years.

She spared a glance across the table at Cullen, who met her eyes. They shared a long, meaningful look, in which she hoped he understood exactly how much this was killing her, too. She could see the anguish in those perfect amber eyes, and she wanted nothing more than to reach across and caress his cheek, to tell him with her lips on his skin that he was the only man she would ever love. Instead, she held in a very heavy sigh as Gaspard starting listing all of the things that he planned to do with the empire once it was under his control. For only the second time today.

***

“My dear Grand Duke, you don't think such a militant approach would send the wrong message?” Vivienne asked Gaspard after he finished his long winded explanation of just how the chevaliers could assist Orlais. Cullen thought he might throw up if he had to hear the man talk military tactics anymore tonight. His ideas were so heavy handed that they wouldn't be effective in the least, unless the population were considerably cowed by fear in the first place. He probably knew it, too. The whole thing was just a big game to him, one big show in which he saw himself undertaking the lead role.

“Not at all, First Enchanter. I think Orlais has grown too soft under my cousin's lead. This country needs a firm hand to guide it back to the glory it deserves.”

“Hm. So you say.” Vivienne tossed Gaspard a smile that was sweet and serene. Which in the language of Madame de Fer usually meant that she thought you were stupid. Cullen couldn't quite agree, as Gaspard was not by any means a simpleton. He was just far, far too arrogant to use his wits to his advantage. Either that, or he played the arrogant fool on purpose to further himself in the great game. Cullen's head hurt trying to piece it all together.

“That is why it will be spectacular to have the chevalier and the Inquisition, united as one front against the evils this world might face.” Gaspard continued, either ignoring or not noticing the Iron Lady's disapproval.

“Assuming Orlais is not one of those evils.” Dorian quipped, his smile nearly a replica of Vivienne's. Cullen couldn't understand how the two mages could bicker with one another so often. They were very nearly the same person half of the time.

“Are you not from Tevinter, Master Pavus?” Gaspard asked, wiping his lips after a pointed sip of wine.

“Oh yes. Thank you for reminding me. I had quite forgotten.” Dorian's voice was as sweet as honey as he snapped a piece of steamed carrot from his fork, chewing as though carrots had murdered his family.

“We can't all be _Orlesian_.” Sera mumbled before being elbowed in the ribs by Blackwall, who was once again on Sera guard duty. He was to keep her properly quiet for the evening, all of them knowing what tended to happen when Sera got leave to speak.

Gaspard laughed heartily at that. “Indeed, we cannot.”

“Thank the Maker.” Varric mumbled into the pile of peas still adorning his plate. Cullen saw Bull start to snicker and quickly covered it with another bite of food.

Then he watched Cole lean over and whisper to Solas, rather loudly asking him how to eat, and Cullen found himself wondering why Josephine had bothered letting them all attend this dinner if she was so worried about appearances. Surely his relationship with Autumn would be the _least_ unusual thing at their table.

Gaspard cleared his throat meaningfully. “It still stands that the Inquisition, united with Orlais, would be a formidable force. I daresay together we could conquer the world, my lady.”

Cullen ground his teeth together. Was the man going to propose to her right here, in the middle of dinner? As though a pork chop and an empire were they way to a woman's heart? If he tried to draw up a marriage agreement at the table Cullen would strangle him, Josephine and politics and the Empire be damned.

“Believe me, Gaspard. If I had designs on conquering the world, Orlais would be the first to know.” Autumn replied acidly, forcing the rest of their table to hide their smirks.

Gaspard seemed to take it to mean something entirely different than the rest of them however, for he raised his glass. “To new alliances!” he cried. The guests followed suit.

As Leliana's cup was in the air she looked right at Gaspard. “To the Inquisition's allies.”

The group responded more loudly to that, a chorus of “Here here!” ringing out. Gaspard wanted to frown at her, his lips twitching ever so slightly as he regarded the spymaster. It was a subtle threat, one that would have been easily missed or brushed off had it come from anyone else. But Gaspard knew, as well as everyone else in the room, that Lady Nightingale never said anything without purpose.

***

Autumn toasted with the rest of the table, sending a silent thank you to her dear spymaster for the verbal jab. She'd had quite enough of Gaspard's smug attitude, and with Josephine still sending her warning looks icy enough to freeze a despair demon, she couldn't do a damn thing about it. Her tongue was going to be bruised with how many times she had to bite down on it to keep from saying something extravagantly foul to the Duke. This dinner had gone on quite long enough.

She longed to be back in the happy, cozy world of their carriages. Snuggled up with her dearest friends, laughing hysterically at the most inane bullshit they could think of. She hated being at this table, watching all of them eat stiffly and cringe at the pompous Orlesian hosting them. They despised this just as much as she did. Half of them hadn't even said a word all evening, which could only be for the same reasons that she kept biting her own tongue. Cullen looked furious. Poor Bull looked like the shirt he had squeezed into was itching terribly. Cole had been forced to stare at a piece of pork that he had no idea what to do with for over an hour.

She cleared her throat, placing her hands on the table on either side of her plate. “I think, my dear Grand Duke, that I will have to beg my leave for the evening. I am quite ready to retire.” she tried to keep her voice light, but she could feel the seething anger leaking through as her smile twitched, her lips wanting to form a frown so badly that it would drive her mad.

“Of course, my lady. Allow me to escort you to your room.” Gaspard replied, standing and holding out his hand for her. She took it reluctantly, letting him pull her up and into him, placing his hand on the small of her back. She allowed him to lead her out of the room and towards her quarters – on the other side of the estate from everyone else, awkwardly close to Gaspard's own room. Something he had no doubt done on purpose.

They walked in silence for a time, the rustle of their feet on the carpeted floors the only sound that followed them through the opulent hallways. When they reached her door she turned, fully intending to thank him and slip inside as fast as possible, but he seemed to have other ideas.

“My lady, may I speak plainly?”

_Not if you want to keep your tongue_ , she wanted to say. Out loud she said, “Of course.”

“We are both available, as you know.”

She snorted inelegantly, unable to help it. “You have certainly made that apparent this evening, yes.”

He gave her a small half smile. “You are a strong, smart, beautiful, and increasingly powerful woman, Inquisitor. One who I am quite taken with, if I am honest. I would ask that you consider making the alliance between us something a little more... _permanent_. If you catch my meaning.” he took her hand, rubbing his thumb over her fingers, and she had to focus to keep herself from recoiling from him as though he were a poisonous snake.

She bit her lip, focusing on how best to word a response. “Gaspard, I -”

“You do not need to answer me tonight. I know that it would be a lot to ask, and I am sure you have your choice of suitors. But consider what I would bring to the table, Lady Trevelyan. We could do great things together.” he leaned forward and planted a slow kiss on her cheek, lingering so that his breath skirted over her skin. “Amazing things.” he whispered in her ear, and she shivered involuntarily. “I promise that I could please you with more than my military strength.”

He let go of her hand and bowed, turning and walking into his room without another word.

***

Cullen clenched his fists, wanting desperately to drive one of them through the brightly colored wall he was pressed against, listening to Gaspard propose to Autumn.

It was surprising how much it hurt to hear it. He expected the anger, the indignation over the other man's presumptions, the urge to punch him in the jaw over the whole affair. He hadn't anticipated that it would leave an ache in his chest that threatened to drive him to his knees, an emptiness that made him want to run to her and beg her for reassurance that he still had her heart, that she was still his to hold and love. Listening to someone else propose to the love of his life was agony, and he couldn't bear it. As soon as he heard the door to Gaspard's room close he rounded the corner, striding purposefully towards Autumn.

She turned as she sensed his approach, her eyes growing wide.

He didn't give her any time to react to his presence. He placed his hands on either side of her face and pulled her lips to his, claiming them in a kiss that had been overdue for the last week. She lost her balance with the force of his movement, and they tumbled backwards until she was pressed up against the door to her room, body flush against his. She moaned into his mouth, lips parting for his tongue eagerly. She tasted like fine wine and heaven, and Cullen could hardly think for how much he needed this. He moved his hands from her face, trailing them down her body to rest at her hips, moving his lips from hers along her jaw, nibbling at the spot just below her ear. She gasped, a ragged breath that send her chest heaving.

“Cullen!” she murmured breathlessly into the top of his head. She brought her hand up and dragged her fingers along his scalp, tugging at his hair delightfully.

He stopped his assault on her skin and rested his forehead against hers, looking into her eyes and letting what he saw there soothe the ache that throbbed in his chest. “I love you.”

She cupped his cheek, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “You heard him.” It was not a question. He closed his eyes, unwilling to see the pain that she was feeling. Was it on his behalf? Was she sad she could not take the offer? Had Cullen somehow misread this entire situation? He hated himself for having doubts, but could not stop them, a tide of worry that filled him, all because he knew another man had just held her hand and asked to share his life with her. The idea was ridiculous, but it made him crumble, fall to pieces in fear that she might actually consider such a thing.

“Cullen, look at me.” she ordered, and he could do nothing but obey her command. He opened his eyes and gazed into hers, and the naked longing he saw there made him shiver. “I love you. _You_. Forever.” she promised, and he kissed her again because he needed to, and he had absolutely no words to express what she meant to him.

When Josephine cleared her throat pointedly he finally released her, stepping back with the reluctance of a starved man. His blood felt like it was rushing through his veins, dizzy with the effort that it took to pull away.

“Are you both insane?” she whispered angrily, hands on her hips.

“Josie, not now.” Autumn warned.

“Gaspard's room is _right there_ , you could have -”

“I said not _now_ , Josie.” Autumn cut her off with a sharp whisper, almost a hiss. “Come on, we need to go get Leliana. We need to discuss what to do about Gaspard's...offer.” she grimaced. Josephine raised her eyebrows but said nothing more.

Cullen took her hand for a moment, another brief bit of contact before they had to go back to pretending there was nothing between them for the sake of Orlais. She squeezed his fingers, her eyes shining with love, and Cullen felt ridiculous for ever having doubted her. He would make sure he never did so again.

***

Gaspard pulled the mirror away from the bottom of the door, smiling smugly to himself. It seems the information had not been so wrong after all. _That_ display certainly proved as much.

He strode purposefully over to his desk, pulling out the writing materials to write his dear sister back. This would make the ball entirely more entertaining for them. They could play this to their advantage, and have fun doing it. Florianne would be thrilled.

_Phantom,_

_General's information confirmed. They are a pair. Proceed with the new plan._

_-Knight_

 


	58. Made of the Night Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Autumn arrives at the Ball.

The window in her room looked out over the vast gardens of the estate. Tonight the cloudless sky allowed the moonlight to cover the grounds, silver beams cascading over the greenery below, making them look almost ethereal. A garden of mystical energy that pulsed with promise. The colors of the flowers were muted, the white light distorting their shades into something deeper and richer than they could be in the sunlight, night's touch altering the world in a way that allowed mystery to exist in all the corners of the world again. Nights were the last bastion of raw magic in the world, the moon and stars a guide to things primal and pure that were left behind in the burning glow of the sun. The dark was where magic belonged to everyone, where mages and mundanes could equally tap into the wonders of a stroll through things that were thrilling only in the dark. Perhaps that was the reason people returned to the fade while they slept. It had nothing to do with the body slipping into motionless rest to let the mind wander, and everything to do with the darkness that surrounded it, ushering it into the unknown.

Autumn set her empty wine glass down on the table, turning away from the beautiful view and back towards the room. They had made it, somehow, to the end of the week. Nothing had exploded, no one had been murdered, and from what they could tell the Inquisition had made it through their visit with the Grand Duke with its integrity intact. The advisors and herself had only one final meeting with Gaspard, at his behest, before they would dress for the ball and commence the last portion of business they had in Orlais.

She rubbed her palms against her upper arms, shivering more out of nerves than the temperature in the room. She wanted to get this over with almost as much as she wanted to avoid it altogether. She was filled with a sense of dread that _something_ was going to go wrong tonight, dampening her mood and squashing any hope that she had of enjoying the evening. Not that her hopes had been particularly high in the first place, but as she opened the door to her room to make her way back to Gaspard's parlor, she knew tonight was going to be particularly harrowing.

She knocked softly on the parlor door before twisting the handle and letting herself in, the familiar expensive decorations flickering in the firelight within. Her advisors were already there, seated in chairs as Gaspard paced in front of the hearth.

“Ah, my dear Autumn. Do come in.” Gaspard was warm in his welcome. He had taken to calling her by her first name after his proposal, a change that Cullen had not failed to notice. After their fervent kiss in the hallway, however, his anger had seemed somewhat abated.

She nodded to Gaspard and gave her advisors a tremulous smile, allowing her eyes to linger just a moment longer on Cullen's. She took a seat, crossing her legs at the ankle and watching Gaspard, waiting for him to start this meeting, as it was his idea, after all.

“So, there is something that I wanted to ask of the Inquisition this evening.” the Duke began, clasping his hands behind his back. “I am concerned about the elven Ambassador invited to attend tonight...this Briala. I fear she intends harm against Celene.” his voice was full of concern, though Autumn had no doubt that it was far from sincere.

“Would harm against your cousin not work in your favor?” Leliana asked bluntly, dispensing with any subtleties for the moment.

“I am not a fool. I know I would be granted the throne were Celene to be felled, but I am not heartless. I do not wish to climb over her dead body to gain what is mine.”

“So what do you ask of us?” Autumn was uninterested in hearing his hollow words about honor. She had heard enough over the past week to fill volumes.

“Find her. Watch her. Discover whatever she is planning and stop it. She is certainly the threat at tonight's event, and I feel as though she would happily destroy the empire if it served her own goals.”

“Thank you for the information. We will certainly look into it.” Josephine promised.

Gaspard bowed low, and after placing a quick kiss on Autumn's hand he left the room. She glanced to her advisors and they didn't have to speak to know that they all felt his tip was meant to mislead them. Autumn didn't trust Gaspard enough to take the information for anything other than a trap. Whatever he meant to do by providing it would serve only himself, and had nothing to do whatsoever with protecting Celene.

“Come, Autumn. We have to get you ready to leave.” Leliana said, and they all left the room to dress for the evening.

***

Leliana and Josephine had gotten her in the dress, and Vivienne had stopped by briefly to do her makeup. Dorian was the only one left with her, admiring her in the mirror as he helped her with her hair and jewelry.

The dress had started as something elegant. When she had tried on the original, back in Skyhold, it had been a lovely piece that hugged her figure in all the proper places, a floor length gown that made her seem tall and graceful. She had not known that her fashion experts were going to have it altered further, making it into something that was so beautiful it was downright captivating. It fit her like nothing she had every worn before, surprisingly comfortable because it had been so expertly tailored to her exact dimensions.

It was cut from a rich blue silk, the color reminding her of the sky just after the sun's rays had completely disappeared. Complex patterns had been sewn in throughout, something like a paisley intertwined with delicate flowers. A sash was tied around the waist, trailing into a long train that flowed onto the floor behind her like liquid night. The top of the dress was an intricate lace that was draped over her shoulders, minuscule sapphires and pearls dotting the pattern that echoed that of the bottom of the gown. The lace wrapped around her neck but exposed both a small portion of her chest and a large expanse of her back, flashing skin but still being relatively modest. It was the most expensive piece of clothing Autumn had ever come anywhere near, and she was astounded at how different it made her look.

“Cullen is going to die.” Dorian gushed as he pinned her earrings on for her, dangling tassels of tiny pearls and sapphires.

“Do you really think it looks alright?” she spun around, looking herself over in the mirror. She _felt_ good in it, but this sort of finery was really not her forte.

“Love, _I’m_ considering ravishing you, and we all know how I feel about women's equipment at this point.” he planted a kiss on her cheek, looking her over again. “You are going to murder people tonight just by walking through the room.”

“Let's just hope it's the Venatori, then.” she giggled, unable to help herself. Her stomach felt like it was filled with dancing butterflies, wings tickling the edge of her senses so that everything was shaky and fuzzy. Maybe it was the magic in the air tonight, maybe it was her nerves, but it felt like the fabric of reality was made out of something different this evening, as though the very world had abandoned its cotton for silk in honor of the festivities.

“Oh, I don't know. Wipe out half the Orlesian nobles with them and you might just make the world a decent place.” he pulled her off the stool that she had been standing on, tugging her towards the door. “Come, let's go get you debuted. I want to watch our Commander's jaw drop.”

*******

They were gathered in one of the many courtyards of the Winter Palace waiting for the last of the Inquisition members to join them before they moved into the main hall. Most everyone was already present, their identical uniforms taking much less work to don than Autumn's ballgown, apparently. Cullen could smell the party carried on the slight breeze of the evening, a mix of the perfume of hundreds of women, the tang of endless glasses of champagne fizzing away, the clear, earthy smell of the water in the plethora of fountains that could be heard bubbling just under the hum of conversation. It was a foreign combination that set his senses tingling, making it seem as though the air was charged with electricity that danced across his skin.

He caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye and saw the faces of everyone around him change, expressions of awe passing over them. Cullen turned to see what they were looking at and felt the world fade away from him, slipping from his mind like sand being pulled into the endless tide. Autumn strode down the steps, moonlight shimmering in her hair, looking like a goddess whose beauty brought tears to his eyes. Her hair was curled in flawless ringlets, a ruby halo around her face, a dazzling accent amongst the crowd of people who paled in comparison to her, as though her presence drained the color from around her. Her dress looked like it was made of the night sky and starlight, shimmering endlessly against the glow of the moon, wrapped around her like a part of her. Little pieces of silver thread wound through the fabric glittered when she moved, making her seem as though she were made of magic. He saw her bite her lip, teeth dragging over the pink painted skin with nerves as her green eyes, rimmed in a deep blue to match the dress, searched the crowd below for something. When her eyes met his and he realized she was looking for _him_ Cullen's breath disappeared, sending his mind reeling, a leaf lifted off the ground and tossed into the air by the wild wind of fate.

He swallowed, taking an involuntary step forward as she picked up her skirts and dashed down the stairs, smiling so brightly the sun would weep with envy. When she reached his side he very nearly swept her up in his arms. Only his awe at her stunning beauty kept him from making the faux paus, rooting him in place in motionless admiration.

“Do I look alright?” her voice was higher than usual, nerves evident in the slight giggle that escaped her.

Cullen tried to speak, opened his mouth, but found that no sound came out. He shut it, swallowing before trying again. “You are breathtaking.” he finally managed, feeling like it was completely inadequate. She was breathtaking everyday. She was stunning covered in detritus from battle. She was gorgeous when she was glowing and ruddy from making love. This...this was something for which there was no word. She was so unspeakably perfect tonight that the only word that could possibly be used to describe her _was_ her. “Autumn...” he reached out, finger brushing a stray curl away from her face. She smiled at him sweetly, somehow impossibly shy even after his assurances.

He glanced around, taking in the crowd of people eying her with wonder. Before he could think twice about it, he grabbed her hand, dragging her from the crowd towards a hidden alcove, shaded from the moonlight by a rosebush arch. Her fingers twined with his automatically, just that simple contact enough to send his heart racing. He pulled her out of sight of the others, where no one could see, and cupped her face in his hands, drinking her in, memorizing the way her skin felt, the way the light hit her face, everything about her as though he didn't already know it by heart.

“You are beautiful, my love.” he brought his lips to hers reverently, the kiss slow and sweet and so achingly perfect that it would not have been difficult to convince him he had died and gone to the Maker's side.

She giggled when he released her, eyes shining happily even in the dark. “Well, I hope I don't get _quite_ that strong of a reaction from the rest of the nobles, or we might be in for a very awkward evening.”

He laughed, appreciating her sense of humor bringing him slowly back to reality. “Come on, I should return you before Josephine has a stroke.”

***

Covet. Want. Desire _Need_. Several hundred words flashed through Solas’ mind when he had watched her descend the stairs, all of them a summary of the way his heart stuttered to a halt and his soul yearned to run to her.

She ran to Cullen and they looked so happy that it made the tiniest bud of joy blossom in his chest, a shaky flower that shivered in the winds of the pain of his jealousy. He wanted to collapse, to sink to his knees and sob before her, begging for a piece of her that she could never give him. Instead he let his eyes dance across her skin, let himself memorize her like this, radiant and happy, a crystalline moment where she seemed untouched by the foils of this world, the folly he had caused. Every beat of his heart after this night would recall the whisper of the wind in her hair, the light of the stars paling against the shimmer in her eyes. The way her lips curled in that smile would be tattooed across his mind, every blink summoning it into being again as though it had been for him.

Solas watched Cullen pull her away and tried desperately to be happy for them, to love the fact that she was in love. That she was loved in turn. To let her friendship and trust be enough for himself, to take nothing more from her than she was willing to give. He willed himself to let that be enough.

He turned away, gazing up into the stars, old friends that knew his secrets, whispered into the blackness between them so that the truth wouldn't tear him apart. For a moment Solas stared into the endless sky and imagined a world where things were different, where she raced down the stairs into his arms, and he could kiss his love for her across her flesh.

When the pain became too great he closed his eyes, breathing deeply to return his pulse back to normal, and imagined a world where things hadn't gone so terribly wrong.

 


	59. Lady Maya Ballsitch of Korze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Ball begins in earnest, and Autumn takes a shine to Celene.

The inside of the Winter Palace was bathed in candlelight, so many tiny flames illuminating the rooms that the light didn't even flicker, the shadows having no place to find purchase. Instead the entire area seemed to pulse with a dim, warm glow that cast a soft edge over the expensive decorations. The ceiling, high up and so far off, glittered distantly, containing reflections upon reflections bouncing off the white and gold colors of the walls and fading softly against each other. The steady thrum of hushed conversation was swallowed by the carpeting, punctuated by footsteps clicking loudly over small patches of marble before reaching the relative safety of a silent rug, movements disguised once more.

The Inquisition stood at the head of the main ballroom, a cluster of deep red uniforms hanging back from the rest of the celebrants awaiting their announcement. Autumn wondered idly if Josephine and Leliana had planned to have the color of the jackets they all wore match the shade of her hair so perfectly in this light, or if it was intentional their sashes looked like matching accessories to the hue of her gown. Despite her resplendent finery, she still looked part of the group, an obvious member of the organization causing such a stir.

Gaspard, however, did not. He stood out, almost gaudy against the rest of them, gold mask shining harshly against the muted silvers and whites of his guests. The metal of his pauldrons seemed tarnished when compared to polished buckles and buttons of her team. Autumn was ridiculously proud of this, of all of them coming together and looking so dashing that it put even the Grand Duke to shame.

“They will announce us to the court, and then we will approach the empress.” Josephine whispered urgently, instructing them all on the procedures of the evening. _“Walk_. _Slowly_. And Inquisitor, remember all eyes are going to be watching you, every more you make, every word you speak will be cataloged and examined.” _Don’t mess this up,_ her unspoken warning hung in the air. Autumn could not bring herself to take offense, however. Josephine knew that this wasn't where her talents were. Autumn was a noble, sure, but one that had resisted that mantle for most of her life, seeking the wonderful normalcy that could only be found amongst people when they thought you were their equal. Which she was, she felt. Nobles were not truly above anyone else, they merely thought they were. As though money was an accurate measure of a person's worth.

The herald had announced Gaspard, breaking her moment of reflection, and Autumn was then obliged to take his arm and proceed across the long ballroom.

***

Cullen watched as she took the Duke's arm and tried hard not to be desperately jealous. He wanted very much to be the man at her side this evening, to ogle her shamelessly while they danced the night away. Absently, he touched gloved fingers to his lips, the remembrance of their stolen kiss bringing a small smile to his face. He had no reason to be jealous, he reminded himself. Gaspard may have her arm, for the moment, but Cullen had the rest of her, and would get far more time later to enjoy it.

“Accompanying him tonight, Lady Autumn Trevelyan of Ostwick. Leader of the Inquisition, crusher of the violent mage rebellion -”

“Is that what we did? Oh my, sounds rather exciting.” Dorian snickered under his breath.

“Vanquisher of seven high dragons -”

Bull's brows knit together as he frowned. “Seven? That number is too low. We need to go hunt another dragon.”

“Savior of the Grey Wardens of Orlais -”

“ _That’s_ not what happened.” Sera grumbled.

“And Blessed Herald of Andraste.” The announcer finished, rolling his parchment to get to the next name.

“She won't like that last bit.” Varric grinned at the others.

“With her are the members of the Inquisition: Lady Cassandra Allegra Portia Filomena -”

“Get on with it.” Cassandra snapped.

The announcer cleared his throat pointedly. “Pentaghast, member of the royal house of Nevarra, Seeker of Truth, and _fervent_ fan of brevity.” the man cast a cheeky grin as she scowled. The rest of the party giggled quietly, and Cullen had to turn his head to hide his smirk.

“Master Varric Tethras, renowned author, member of the Dwarven Merchant's Guild, and honorary member of the Kirkwall guard.”

“I'm going to kill Aveline.” Varric mumbled as he began his procession behind Cassandra.

“Lady Maya Ballsitch of Korze.”

Cullen looked around confused for a moment before Sera started giggling like mad, sauntering forward. He rolled his eyes as some of the nobles gathered started to laugh.

“Iron Bull, Leader of the famed mercenary company The Bull's Chargers…as his name might imply.”

“ _The_ Iron Bull.” the Qunari admonished, falling in step behind Sera and shaking his head angrily.

“Warden Blackwall, recruitment officer of the Grey Wardens.”

Blackwall smiled through his beard, walking forward. “What, I don't get to be vanquisher of anything?”

“Dorian Pavus, son of Magister Halward Pavus, member of the Circle at Vyrantium.”

Dorian puffed out his chest and strode forward with an easy grin, despite the murmurs that rippled through the Orlesian nobles watching them. Cullen could pick out hints of people mentioning his country of origin, and he hoped sincerely that they didn't bother Dorian.

“First Enchanter of the Montsimmard Circle of Magi, Enchanter to the Imperial Court, Madame Vivienne.”

Vivienne stepped forward, wearing her uniform and sauntering on as though draped in the finest silks. Was there ever a time the Iron Lady did not hold her head up high?

“Solas, the Inquisitor's elven serving man.”

Cullen's head snapped towards the announcer even as the shoulders of every Inquisition member stiffened. Solas may not have had a long list of titles to choose from, but “elven serving man” was certainly not an acceptable replacement.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught movement, and turned just in time to see Autumn facing away from the Empress, staring at the announcer like she might fling a dagger towards his heart. Her eyes flicked to Solas, who gave her a small shake of his head and a weak smile. Her shoulders sagged momentarily before she turned back to Gaspard, taking his arm again. Cullen frowned, wishing there was more that could be done.

“We cannot undo centuries of prejudice in a single night, Commander.” Josephine whispered, placing a placating hand on his shoulder.

“That doesn't mean we shouldn't try.” he could feel his frown deepening.

“We have other priorities tonight.” Leliana snapped, and he could find no argument with that.

Cullen was denied his chance to even try, as his own name was being announced to the court, and Josephine's firm hand spurred him forward.

***

Autumn could smell the acrid tang of the sweat rolling off of the man next to her. The warmth of all the bodies pressed into the same area mingling with the heat of the flickering fires illuminating the ballroom was clearly too much for him, and his skin was damp underneath all his armor. Before this moment she had been _sure_ Gaspard had already been as unappealing as he possibly could, but he had in fact managed to sink a peg lower.

Now that they were just below the raised walkway Celene stood upon, Autumn got her first good glance at the Empress they were going through so much trouble to save. Her blue dress, a more saturated hue than Autumn's, seemed to absorb the light around it rather than reflect it, an eerie counterpoint against her own. Her pale lips split in a stiffly polite smile as they approached.

“Gaspard, cousin. It is wonderful to see you.” her tone was so sweet that Autumn was positive she didn't mean what she said in the least.

“Celene.” Gaspard spoke like a rabid dog, a growl behind the greeting both savage and restrained. He released Autumn's elbow to give an exaggerated bow to the empress. “You look splendid this evening. Let us hope that remains so.”

Celene's smile broadened into something decidedly feral. “ _My_ splendor would never be in question in your company, cousin.”

Gaspard snorted a humorless laugh and walked off towards a table of refreshments, apparently done with the conversation.

“Inquisitor, your presence here tonight is like a cool breeze on a summer night.” Autumn could see her eyes appraising her from under her delicate lace mask.

Autumn lowered herself at the waist, bowing respectfully. “I am glad you find my arrival so refreshing, your grace. I am sure there are those of the court that will find my presence far less gentle before the evening is over.”

Celene's lips quirked in a smirk, her approval of the response apparent in the slight change of expression. “A breeze can easily stir a storm. I wonder which way the winds will blow.”

Autumn matched her good humor, finding that she liked the Empress a little more after this exchange. “I'm sure your grace has weathered far worse storms than I could conjure.”

Celene laughed, tipping her head back as the high peal rolled off her tongue. “Inquisitor, I think your modesty does you a disservice. The woman who has brought her storm across all Thedas is no mere rainy day.”

Autumn's smirk turned into a broad grin. “Ah, but the Empress of the great Orlesian Empire did not get where she was by forgetting her umbrella.” They both chuckled, a feeling of kinship passing between them. Autumn hadn't expected to actually _like_ the empress, particularly knowing she was related to Gaspard, but the two could not have seemed more different. Celene was a powerful women, with quick wit, who was facing down open enemies in the midst of a party. There was a lot there to respect, and Autumn found that the task of protecting her was not such a burden after all.

“Allow me to introduce my cousin, Grand Duchess Florianne de Chalons.” her graceful hand extended to the woman standing behind her, obscured by shadows.

Florianne strode forward, her movements masked by the large gown she wore in such a way that made her appear to be floating across the floor. “What an unexpected pleasure.” she purred, her accent coloring the words with a dangerous sweetness.

“Is it my presence that is unexpected, my lady, or merely the pleasure?” Autumn dipped her head, pleased to see Celene's lips quirk again in a subtle smile.

“Perhaps a bit of both, Inquisitor. Or neither. I think we shall see as the evening progresses.” Florianne gave a stiff curtsy before melting back into the shadows, off to speak with her brother Gaspard no doubt.

“Your grace...” Autumn began, but hesitated. She wanted to tell the woman about the danger to her life, but was this the place? Celene seemed a shrewd and discerning individual, but would she listen to the Marcher Inquisitor standing before her?

“Inquisitor, do not fret over me.” Celene smiled, her words cutting through Autumn's doubt as though she knew exactly what was on her mind. “I have many umbrellas this evening.” she nodded politely and then turned away, facing another set of dignitaries that required her attentions and effectively ending their conversation.

Autumn picked up her skirts and climbed the steps towards her team, all of them awaiting further instruction.

***

Dorian watched her climb the stairs, and was struck again by just how enchanting she looked this evening. If he didn't know better, he would think the dress had been magically enhanced in some way, but he had been in the dressing room and the garment, while gorgeous, was just a garment. The dazzling effect was all _her_. Her presence, her poise, who she was shone through with a brightness that was set to blind them all. Dorian was honored to be a part of her entourage.

“Maker's _balls_ I'm glad Gaspard is gone. The man smelled like a diseased nug.” Autumn hissed out the curse as soon as she was near enough to be heard, her tone so inelegant that it made Josephine scowl. Dorian chuckled while Sera gave her a high five, the elf celebrating any moment of impropriety that she could find amongst the picturesque ballroom.

“I'd rather smell him than listen to him.” Cullen replied, grinning as Autumn wrinkled her nose.

“Yeah, say that _after_ you get a good whiff. Although the silence _was_ nice.” she gazed at Cullen with affection for a moment before shaking her head slightly, looking over everyone present. “Alright, after meeting the empress I think it's clear that she knows there is a lot more going on tonight than empty peace talks, but I think she might be relying on us to flush out the danger. I want everyone to spread out and work on gathering information. If you hear anything interesting, report it back to Leliana, as I will probably be swamped with imbeciles clamoring for my attention.” she rolled her eyes, letting out a small huff that sent one of the curls hanging over her cheek flying into the air. Then she waved her hands in a shooing gesture, a silent command that they should all get to work. They dispersed, red jackets fading into the swirling colors of the crowd around them.

Dorian headed into the hallways leading to the gardens, grabbing a flute of champagne from a passing servant. He cradled the thin crystal as he watched the masked celebrants brush past him. He was keenly aware of the barely concealed stares pointed his way, and every so often he could catch the low murmured bits of conversation. _Tevinter. Mage. Probably a bloodmage._ He tried to keep his posture aloof, his strides even as he worked his way out of the hall and into the pleasantly tempered night air.

The sight that greeted him despoiled the respite, and he scowled. Bull was surrounded by a number of tittering noblewomen, fawning over him as though he were some foreign prince on the verge of sweeping them off their feet.

“Oh, oh, Mister Bull! Do you know the Inquisitor well?” one of them piped. Bull gave them a broad smile, causing a couple of them to actually swoon. Dorian downed the rest of the champagne in his glass in one swift movement.

“I consider her like a sister to me.” Bull's sonorous voice addressed the crowd, his polite tone enough to send shivers down Dorian's spine. He filled his gaze with loathing as he looked at the warrior, considering setting his jacket on fire just to wipe that smug look off his face.

He felt as though he were in free fall when Bull looked up and met his eyes. For a moment, an impossibly long expanse of time, they just stared at one another. Something passed over Bull's face that looked a lot like longing, and Dorian felt like his heart had broken free from its moorings and gone careening about heedlessly in his chest. He opened his mouth, as though to speak even though Bull was all the way across the yard and wouldn't have heard him. He shut it again abruptly, finding no breath and no words. It was like the air was charged with some connection between them, some meaning being exchanged that Dorian couldn't think about or he might shatter into a thousand pieces and tumble into the grass beneath his feet, grass that he was sure was there but could no longer feel because his entire body felt numbed.

The moment dissolved when one of the women grabbed Bull's elbow, pulling his attention away. Dorian was yanked back to reality, roughly settling into the bustling air of the party and the swirling gossip disparaging his character. He shook his head and grabbed another glass of champagne, sipping it in an effort to drown out everything that had just gone flying through his head with fizzy bubbles and a crisp aftertaste.

 


	60. Hello, Cole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cole makes a lot of people jump, and Leliana gets to say hello to Morrigan.

Autumn was beginning to worry her face was going to freeze in this horrendously polite smile forever. Her cheeks hurt, her head was already pounding, and whoever the fuck it was that was standing in front of her was just chattering away oblivious to her discomfort. _Orlesians_.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught movement, the crowd parting as a few women let out nervous titters. Striding through the opening was a woman in a dark purple gown with eyes like an animal's, stalking towards her with a self assurance that only came from a person who could back up their arrogance with something more substantial than a title. The way the nobles seemed to want to scatter before her confirmed that assumption. Autumn turned to her, all but ignoring the man who had been trying to talk to her as he excused himself and fled.

“Well, well. What have we here.” the woman purred, her rich voice carrying a tone that implied both intelligence and humor. Autumn was almost relieved to finally meet someone _interesting_ at this party, even if she couldn't place her as a friend or foe just yet.

“Just a poor Marcher, swept up in all the glory of the Orlesian empire.” Autumn bat her eyelashes rapidly, speaking with just enough acid in her voice that the woman could take her meaning.

“I very much doubt anything about this has swept _you_ up, Inquisitor.” she laughed, bright yellow eyes dancing like a cursed moon soaring across the sky.

“Ah, I see you have me at a disadvantage. You know who I am, but I am afraid I am not so well acquainted with you.” Autumn sipped at her drink, watching her new conversation companion carefully.

“Morrigan?” Leliana's voice snatched their gazes away, the spymaster slinking through the throngs of people to join them in their now secluded spot.

“Ah, Leliana. I had wondered when you might seek me out.” Morrigan smiled cheekily, tilting her head in greeting.

“I would say I'm surprised to see you here, but after all we've been through I'm not sure _anything_ you do would surprise me anymore.” Leliana shook her head, a quiet smile spreading across her lips.

“And I might say everything you do surprises me. Hero of the blight, Left Hand to the Divine, now spymaster for the Inquisition? You _do_ like to throw yourself in the middle of things.” Morrigan replied, laughing slightly.

Leliana shrugged. “Must be a rogue thing.” at this they both laughed heartily, and Autumn felt left out of the joke.

Autumn cleared her throat awkwardly. “So...you're _the_ Morrigan? The witch of the wilds that helped stopped the blight?”

“Why am I always the witch? Was not Wynne a mage as well?” Morrigan shot back, but her voice was still full of humor.

Leliana giggled. “Not an apostate.”

“In any case, it is an honor to meet you.” Autumn said, perhaps the most sincere thing out of her mouth all night.

“Were it only under more pleasant circumstances.” Morrigan's lips dipped into a frown, and Autumn knew that she had not been sought out for the novelty of her charms alone.

“What do you know?” Leliana matched her frown.

“A great many things, but I expect you were speaking of more immediate matters.” The dark woman smirked as Leliana waved her hand in a rolling motion, ushering the conversation forward. “Things stir within the palace tonight that ought not be here. I killed a man skulking about where none should have been earlier.” she seemed cavalier about the admission, and Autumn knew without a doubt that she had killed many in her time in this world. It sent a chill running up and down her spine.

“Why did you kill him? He could have had useful information.” Leliana scolded.

“Well, tis not as if I was not provoked. Besides, _Spymaster_ , you should know even dead men still tell tales.” the witch produced a key from the folds of her dress, holding it out to Leliana. She took it, examining it closely. “I found this on him, and I have no doubt wherever it leads will hold valuable information.”

“You don't know where it leads?” Autumn raised her eyebrow, startled at this turn of events.

“I did not have time to traipse through the palace, attempting to unlock all the doors, no.” Morrigan gave her an irritated scowl. “Although you should know the man I claimed it from was dressed in robes that could only have been Tevinter in origin. I suspect you would already know what that means.”

“Venatori.” Autumn hissed, her eyes narrowing and flitting around the ball room, as though she expected them to start crawling out of the woodwork at the mere mention of their group. “Leliana, get that key to Bull. Have Dorian, Solas, and Varric go with him to find out where it leads. Tell Sera to slip into the kitchens to listen to the servants, have her change if necessary. I want Vivienne working the room – I know, I know she's already doing that.” Autumn waved off the protest before Leliana could voice it. “I want Blackwall to keep his eyes on the Empress, make sure she doesn't leave his sight. Cassandra needs to watch Gaspard. And have somebody send me Cole.” she finished.

“I'm here.” the quiet voice next to her elbow made her jump, and she was only able to resist shrieking by biting down on the inside of her cheek.

“ _Fuck,_ Cole, how long have you been there?” she rested a hand on her collarbone as her pulse fluttered against her palm..

“Only since you thought of me.” he shrugged, his head looking odd without the customary floppy hat.

“I'll return if we find anything, Inquisitor.” Leliana said, bowing before walking off to dispatch her messages. Autumn watched her go, wishing that she could follow and go with her team. Josephine had already made it clear that she was not to leave the ballroom under _any_ circumstances. Autumn had a feeling that she would have to disobey the Antivan's orders at some point, because that was simply how her life went, but now was not the time. Her team could handle the investigations.

“Thank you for your help, Morrigan.” Autumn turned her attention back to the witch before her, whose eyes were sparkling with unspoken danger. “I don't know why you do it, but I will admit it's nicer thinking you're on our side than not.”

“Tis no trouble. Yet.” she said evasively before she turned and left herself, skirts swaying in tandem with her hips.

“Cole, I want you to be our messenger tonight. Listen to the others, figure out where you are needed most, and come get me if I'm needed.” she instructed him. “Tell the others that's what your doing, so they know to expect you. And for Andraste's sake, try not to make anybody scream.” she ruffled his hair affectionately. He smiled back crookedly, pale blue eyes alight.

Then he was gone and Autumn had to turn back to the ballroom, even if it was the last thing she wanted to do.

***

If the expression “seething with rage” could be applied to anyone, it was Dorian. Every time Bull managed to spare a glance towards the corner of the garden the mage was lurking in he looked ready to spit nails. He could almost feel the razor sharp comments that would come pouring out any second, should someone actually try to talk to the man.

Part of him knew exactly why Dorian was angry, knew that every time Bull smiled at the noblewomen nattering away with him that Dorian's scowl deepened. It was egging him on, driving him to behave even more salaciously than he might have otherwise. So much so that he found himself flirting back with the vapid women, reaching out and touching perfumed locks of hair as he spoke, or gently brushing his fingers over gloved hands when they sought his attention. Another part of him refused to admit it, refused to acknowledge that Dorian could be affected by him at all. Dorian could not possibly be jealous of a bunch of silly Orlesians fawning over Bull because they thought forbidden fruit was the epitome of sexiness. It was far more likely Dorian was upset because of the reaction the court seemed to have towards his country of origin, wasn't it?

Bull saw Leliana enter the garden and cross the grassy lawn towards him. He gave her a big, welcoming grin while internally he felt himself let go of some of the tension building there. If she was here, then hopefully that meant they were about to be given something to do besides entertain bored rich people, and while entertaining could certainly be fun, at times, Bull was much more accustomed to a more hands on approach.

“Pardon me ladies, but I require The Iron Bull's services.” Leliana told the gathered women, who let out a collective moan of disappointment. Bull didn't miss the innuendo to her words, or the seductive purr she added, just to rial up the crowd. The Nightingale was in her element tonight.

“Now, now ladies. I'm sure I'll be done before the night is through. Save some dances for me, will you?” he winked at them, and they giggled excitedly as they made their way back towards the hall. Bull turned his focus back to Leliana. “Alright, Red. Tell me you have something worthwhile for me to do.”

“Indeed. Take this, find out where it leads.” she unceremoniously handed him a large, plain iron key. “Dorian, Varric, and Solas are to join you. Find them before you go.”

“Anything in particular we’re hoping to find behind this mystery door?” he folded the metal over in his hands, the cold iron feeling odd against his skin, which was warmer than he had thought it was.

“Well, the key was taken from a Venatori body, so probably more Venatori.” she shrugged.

“Hot damn, now that's good news.” he grinned. Leliana smiled back, then turned to go, shaking her head so that her thin orange hair spun around her shoulders. Bull made his way over to Dorian, bracing himself for what would surely be a spiky comment from the mage.

“I see our spymaster put an end to that ridiculous gaggle of women fawning over you. I'm surprised you could keep your paws to yourself for so long.” Dorian spat, still seething.

Bull let the hurt he felt at the comment wash away, unwilling to give it purchase in his mind. “Come on, Dorian. We have work to do.”

Dorian followed, as they trekked off to find Varric and Solas, with only minimal scowling.

***

Solas watched with a surreptitious eye as her lips parted in an insincere laugh, a silent motion as the sound was killed long before it had a chance of reaching his ears. He didn't realize how much it would bother him to see her being so disingenuous until he had actually witnessed it. He was so used to seeing her being the very picture of honesty, wearing her love for her friends on her sleeve, that to see the light conspicuously missing from her eyes when she smiled was jarring. Knowing that it was all necessary, all part of the grand Game, did not do much to lessen his distaste. He felt as though she were above all of it, like she shouldn't be forced to participate because she was higher than all the people clamoring around her. He knew that would end disastrously, both politically and socially, but it didn't stop him from wanting to shout down all the nobles wishing to see her perform in such a way.

Of course he shouldn't be watching her at all, but he had given up on trying to pry his eyes away far earlier in the evening. It was simply a fact of life that his gaze followed her across the room, and he was completely powerless to fight it. Besides, it was her safety this evening that he was most interested in protecting. The Inquisition might be there to save the empress, but Solas was there to protect _her_ , as he would be until he was no longer able, or until she bade him stop. He knew that he would have to leave the ballroom at some point, to let her out of his sight long enough to do the work that they had come for, but for now he would allow his gaze to linger.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Solas found his reverie abruptly interrupted. “Hey Chuckles, we have work.” Varric's voice cut through the hum of the crowd, forcing Solas to break his gaze and look at him. The dwarf stood with Dorian and Bull, all looking tense in anticipation of whatever task had been assigned to them.

“We have been given an assignment?” Solas moved from his spot on the wall, his own body reacting to the idea of work. It would at least give him something to focus on besides the way the light danced against her skin.

“Unlocking a door.” Bull held up a simple iron key, unadorned in make.

Solas let his brow creep upward. “A servant's key?”

The triplet of men in front of him seemed to start in astonishment.

“How do you know what kind of key it is?” Dorian asked, looking at the key as though it would suddenly start speaking.

Solas chuckled. “We are in Orlais. Do you think anything so plain would belong to anyone else?”

“ _That_ is a very valid point.” Varric said.

“Well, I guess we should try the servant's quarters first then.” Bull rumbled, palming the key and heading in that direction.

Solas spared one final look over his shoulder for Autumn, catching sight of her as she was led to the dance floor by some faceless noble. The man took her hand, placing the other on her hip and started guiding her through the steps in time with the music. Her body moved fluidly, her muscles feeling the music before her mind needed to, living with the beats and swirling against the polished marble floors. The man with her was inconsequential, unimportant, and Solas barely registered that she was dancing with anyone at all, so absorbed was he in seeing the way her hips swayed, the way the fabric of her dress lifted from the floor as she spun. In his head it was Solas with her. He could feel the way the silk would rub against his fingertips, the way her breath would ghost against his cheek as she laughed.

Solas turned away from the scene and followed the others out of the ballroom, and if his heart felt like lead in his chest he pretended not to notice.

Their progress was halted just a ways away from the crowd when Dorian suddenly let out a loud yelp, jumping backwards and knocking into Bull, who had to place his hands on the man's shoulders to keep him upright. Solas couldn't quite see what the commotion was about yet, but the muffled “sorry” in a familiar, timid voice answered his unasked question.

“Fasta Vaas, Cole!” Dorian grumbled, backing away from Bull and standing rigidly straight.

“I'm sorry. Autumn told me not to make you scream.” Cole's head was bowed, upset at his failure.

“Cole, is there something you needed?” Solas asked him. The boy looked back up, eyes bright.

“I'm helping. Messages, to and from. I can listen underneath the sounds. She says to warn you I might be coming and going all night. And not to make you scream.”

“Good idea. Keeps us all in contact without sending messages all over the palace.” Varric nodded sagely.

“Cole, make sure Autumn knows that we think we know where the key unlocks and we are headed there now.” Bull informed him.

“Servants quarters, plain key plain door.” Cole answered. Bull looked like he was about to ask him a question but thought better of it, his mouth snapping shut with an audible click.

“Thank you, Cole. Make sure to tell Cullen to watch over Autumn carefully, as well.” Solas said.

Cole nodded and then slipped away, disappearing around the corner without a sound. The group resumed their progress towards the servant wing, growing quieter as they got farther away from the designated celebration area.

***

“Did...did you just grab my bottom?” Cullen was astounded as he glared at the masked man, who looked like he was about to start twirling his comically villainous mustache.

“Oh, forgive me, Commander. I am a bad, bad man.” the man leaned forward, invading Cullen's personal space with no shame. “Would you like to punish me?”

Cullen cleared his throat loudly and took a step back, bumping into the wall. “ _No_.” he said firmly, inching along the wall to get away from the group of men and women that surrounded him. What was _wrong_ with Orlesians? Why wouldn't they leave him alone? He had ducked out of crowds three times already this evening, but somehow they just kept finding their way back to him. The press of people, the noise, the hungry eyes watching his every move…it was too much. Every time he closed his eyes he was back in Kinloch, a demon running its hands all over him without permission. His denials didn’t matter, his wishes ignored. There was only the thrum of his heart left to him as the world sought to use him for its own perverse purpose, whether he willed it or not. He could feel his mind trying to recede, to curl into dark spaces and disconnect from reality. To go numb, so that he couldn’t feel the hands pressing into him, pulling at him, pleading with him to relent. His skin felt like it was covered in slime, and he wished that he could take a cloth and scrub it away, to tear himself down to the bone so that there was nothing left for them to take. He took a deep, bracing breath and worked his way out of the crowd, seeking respite in a dark corner of the room.

His escape successful, at least for the moment, Cullen glanced around the ballroom, panicking for just a moment before he finally spotted Autumn, her back stiff as she was moved around the room by a very tall noble whose mask looked like at least a dozen birds had been sacrificed to adorn it with feathers. It was her fourth dance of the evening, the flood of requests pouring in after one particularly daring man had asked and gotten a yes. Now there was a veritable line wrapped around the area she had been in, eager eyed and sweaty palmed Orlesians dying to get the chance to dance with the loveliest, and almost most powerful, woman in the room.

He was surprised to find that he was not as jealous as he thought he would be. Certainly he wished he could march over and dance with her himself – what else were those hours of dance lessons good for? - but he found himself more concerned about whether or not one of the men might be intending her harm. All it would take would be one poison tipped dagger to press into her exposed skin, and she could be lost to them forever. It made the idea of him worrying about whether or not they got too handsy seem ridiculous.

“She watches for the sharp, too. Eyes on the torso, looking for pockets, hands shaking from nerves or anticipation, is this a man who would stab on the dance floor or merely a noble wanting another trophy in their bed.”

“Hello Cole.” Cullen said evenly, not even bothering to turn to the lad. He had known that the spirit boy would be popping up at some point tonight. Autumn would not have brought him if she hadn't meant to use him.

“Hello Cullen. Solas says to tell you to watch over Autumn. Autumn is thinking you shouldn't scowl so much, but she didn't say it out loud yet.” Cole's eyes were drawn to their Inquisitor as well, and he watched alongside Cullen as the man dancing with her dipped her so low that her curls brushed against the creamy marble beneath them.

Cullen smiled, imagining Autumn scolding him internally for scowling. Even in the midst of everything else she had to worry about, she somehow still found time to spare a thought for him. “If you talk to her, tell her I will try, so long as she saves a dance for me.”

Cole beamed. “She would like that.”

Cullen smiled, glancing around the room quickly to ensure nothing was amiss. He realized there was now a distinct lack of crimson jackets milling about. “Cole, do you know where everyone is?”

“Blackwall watches the pale lady, Cassandra is watching the little man who watches the throne. Sera went into the kitchens, listening and mixing things into the food that makes everyone seem like people. Vivienne is speaking with the lady who had a lot of husbands, and everyone else went into the wing where all of the eyes stopped opening.” Cole tilted his head. “I have to go, Sera wants to tell me something.” and with that Cole stepped back and seemed to fade into the shadows.

Cullen didn't actually understand _all_ of what he had just been told, but he could surmise the key details. It seemed as though most of their group was off working somewhere outside the bounds of the party. He could only hope “where all of the eyes stopped opening” was not nearly as ominous as it sounded.

 


	61. Oh Hey, Nobody Screamed. Good Job Cole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the party is horrified by what happens to the servants.

The group stood soundless, statues struck in place by the horrors that they had witnessed. The only parts of their bodies that were moving were their eyes as they darted around, pupils dilated at the surge of adrenaline awakened by what they saw. The servants quarters looked to be a maze, singular rooms spread out across the grounds interconnected by outdoor pathways lined in lush foliage and expensive flowers. From their vantage point they could see through a small communal kitchen area, and out into the moonlit pathways beyond. They had unlocked the door to see what was behind it, and everything within their view was a nightmare scape.

Blood splattered the walls and floor, crimson drops painting rivulets down from places on the ceiling. It didn't look so much like a battle had taken place as it did a massacre, whose engineer had not only killed the poor elven people that lived here, but slaughtered them with glee, flinging carnage with wild abandon, trying to paint the world in the gore of their efforts. Bodies littered the grounds, most of them falling in the middle of trying to run away from whatever had done this, knife wounds in backs, faces screaming wordlessly for the rest of eternity pressed into the tragedy stained ground.

As they made their way through the area, gingerly trying to avoid stepping in the pools of sticky red blocking their paths, staining the grout between the cobblestones, they kept their mouths shut and their observations to themselves. It wasn't until they came across the body of an elven child, no more than ten years in this world, that Varric finally lost his composure and swore violently. Dorian watched as Solas knelt down and closed the boys eyes, long fingers trembling against young skin, murmuring something in elven as he did.

“This is fucked up, even for Venatori.” Bull’s hands twisted on the haft of his battleaxe, making the leather wrap groan in protest.

“What's the point? Why would they murder an entire wing of servants?” Dorian felt like someone had placed a very large weight over his chest.

“Eliminating witnesses, maybe?” Varric was listless as he spoke, his eyes open and empty.

“With the mess they left behind, I doubt secrecy was high on their list of priorities.” Bull said.

A high pitched scream echoed through the night air, causing the party to jerk their heads up in the direction it had come from. Solas was dashing off before Dorian could react, his light feet slapping against the stone on the ground as he searched out the source. The others were quick to follow, readying their weapons in the hopes that they would get to use them on whatever foul person was responsible for what had happened. Revenge was not often a moral pursuit, but it could be so sweet when it was.

They rounded the corner with only enough time to watch helplessly as an elven woman toppled to the ground, a long, wicked dagger protruding from between her shoulder blades. Her cries turned to gurgling sobs, and then silence as she fell, the life spilling out of her and being soaked up by the plain cotton dress she wore. The culprits stood before them, a group of Venatori mages, a gaudily dressed jester puffing out their chest in front. Dorian could practically _hear_ the thing's outfit, the colors were so loud. Definitely not in it for stealth, then. The jester gave them a sickening grin, face contorting with the expression underneath the odd facial paint. Dorian had no doubt that this was the perpetrator of the night’s horrendous murders.

There was a mechanical clicking sound just before a bolt flew into the chest of one of the Venatori mages, burying up to the fletching and eliciting a garbled cry of surprise before the man slumped forward, sinking to the ground. Their enemy turned their attention to the group, bodies tensing as they readied for confrontation. Dorian spun his staff in the air, pulling forth his energy and letting the centrifugal force of the twirl enhance it, pooling magic until it pulsated with power in the crystal at the tip.

There were four mages left, and with the addition of the jester that made a total of five people for the party to handle. The Venatori were not unprepared, however, and Dorian felt the tingle of opposing magic already crawling against his skin. Knowing that this was not going to be an easy battle, Dorian dug in his heels, taking a stance that would hopefully allow him to withstand the offensive spells that would be launched his way. Turning to one of the mages, Dorian stopped his staff's spin, pointing the crystal at the man. Fire boiled out of the tip, launching in a graceful arc towards its target. The air shimmered with the heat, the edges of reality blurring as the angry blast reached the Venatori. He spun out of the way, casting a saving layer of frost against his own robes to protect from the residual heat, Dorian's spell doing nothing more than making his opponent soggier with condensation.

Dorian felt the chill of ice before he saw it form, the air freezing around him and leaving the moisture to form small, glittering crystals that spun in the breeze. He jumped back and missed the bulk of the spell as a massive wall of ice burst up from the ground, deadly spikes protruding from it and launching in his direction. He nearly lost an eye to one of them, but it bounced harmlessly off the surface of a barrier hastily placed in its path. Dorian called a wordless thanks to Solas for his aid as he moved around the wall of frozen shards in his way to face his opponents once more.

In his peripheral vision, he caught Bull charging one of the mages, feet stirring up chunks of grass as they dug into the ground, propelling him forward. Dorian waved his hand, setting the Qunari's axe ablaze just before it came in contact with a Venatori. The mage's robes caught on fire as the honed veridium cut through flesh, slicing clean through the middle of the man. His organs spilled out of the wound and tumbled to the ground, and he let out an earsplitting scream. His cries were cut off as a second blow chased the first, severing the spine and putting the man out of his misery.

The foul smell of burning flesh cut through Dorian's senses as he spun, locating the man that he had failed to burn earlier. His staff, a gnarled black branch that looked to be torn from some demented sylvan, glowed with energy. Dorian watched as lightning shot out of the weapon, shooting not towards himself but the broad back of Bull. Dorian tried to shout, casting a counterspell that hit the Venatori square in the chest, and sent him flying a good thirty feet away, but the electricity was already released, and had found its target. Bull convulsed, muscles pulling so tight that they appeared to strain against his skin, before he sank to the ground, twitching.

“Solas!” Dorian heard Varric cry, and a bolt shot out to sink into the mage that had been thrown back, ensuring he would not rise again. The elven apostate was already running to Bull's side, kneeling down and examining him with one hand while summoning and holding a barrier with another.

“He will recover! Finish them!” Solas yelled, and Dorian and Varric needed no further urging.

Three mages had come running out of one of the other rooms to investigate the commotion, and Dorian could see they were ready to join the fight. Varric was pinned down behind a statue, spells hitting the carved marble and splitting it, dust and debris spouting everywhere as the once beautiful piece was destroyed. They weren't going to last much longer if they couldn't take out these mages.

Dorian's moment of appraisal was dearly paid for. A spike of ice roughly a foot long shot through the air, burying itself deeply into his shoulder. A cry of pain escaped his lips as he stumbled backwards with the force of the impact, blood already seeping out of the wound and dripping on the ground. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he sunk his staff into the ground to stabilize himself, pulling his body to a stop. Reaching up, he yanked the spear out of his shoulder, dropping it onto the ground to melt into a puddle of crystal water tinged pink from his blood. He could feel some of the water still chilling the wound, and he hope that water was all that had been in the ice.

He yanked the staff back out, a squelching sound following it as it left the mud churned up by the melting ice of the battle. Spinning it quickly, the smooth wood blurring before him as the blade at the tip caught the moonlight over and over, flashing sporadically, he opened himself up and let the magic pour through him. He could feel himself become a conduit, a surging connection between this world and the next, and the pain in his shoulder receded as the power overtook him.

His throat tore with the force of his cry as he let the magic loose, a crackling cluster of lightning pouring out of him that caused a peal of thunder to crash through the gardens. The mages went down, one by one caught in the surge. Their nerves were fried with the force as it burned through their veins and seared their skin away. When it was over, all the mages lay prone on the ground, robes smoking, eyes open and staring sightlessly. Dorian's chest was heaving and he leaned against his staff, looking around to determine if there was anyone left.

“Dorian!” Varric called, and Dorian saw the dwarf running towards him, holding up Bianca and trying to aim at some spot just behind him. He spun, trying to face the attacker, and found himself facing down the jester, knife held high and ready to be plunged into Dorian's flesh.

The blow was arrested as the jester's chest erupted in blood, a jagged blade protruding from his sternum where nothing had been a moment before. The jester coughed, mouth still split in a victorious grin, and blood splattered out onto Dorian's face. The blade was withdrawn, and the lifeless body crumpled onto the ground, giving Dorian a clear view of his savior.

A slight elven woman stood before them, dressed in simple finery and adorned with a polished silver mask that gleamed harshly in the light. Her eyes were narrowed as she regarded the group gathered before her.

“Inquisition?” her voice was quivering with cold rage, the Dalish lilt only serving to accentuate her fury rather than soften it.

“Who's asking?” Varric didn’t look like he was prepared to ask the question twice, Bianca trained on the elf.

“I can be many things, dwarf. I am a spy, an elf, a woman, and if you are in any way responsible for what has happened here, I am your end.” she snapped.

“Can we safely assume _you_ were not responsible for this tragedy then?” Solas asked her, his frosty glance speaking volumes though his voice remained low. Dorian was relieved to see Bull walking with the apostate as they approached.

For a tense moment, no one said anything, the elven woman silently regarding them through her mask weighing their worth. Dorian could feel the jester's blood dripping tingling trails down his face, but he resisted the urge to wipe it away, not daring to move lest he break the charged moment. Eventually she sheathed her blades, relaxing her stance, finding them worth her time, or at least not worth her ire. “It appears we may not be on opposing sides. I am Ambassador Briala.” she bowed stiffly.

“Shouldn't you be in the peace talks? Why are you out here?” Varric was still eying her suspiciously. Dorian took a moment to wipe his face clean, wincing as he moved the injured shoulder.

“One of my agents didn't report back to me. I went to check on them and found... _this_.” she balled one of her hands into a fist, her arm shaking violently.

“I'm so sorry.” Dorian said, not knowing what else to say. The amount of innocent lives laying on the ground was enough to make him sick to his stomach, and he could only imagine the agony had he actually known any of them personally.

“Do you know _why_ the Venatori did this?” Bull asked her.

“I imagine it was in retaliation for my meddling.” she shrugged, studiously avoiding meeting anyone's eyes. “Tell me something. You arrived with Gaspard, but do your allegiances lie with him and his childish grab for the throne?”

The group glanced at one another, debating if they should say anything. Although Dorian felt that if she was working against the Venatori then she was more an ally than enemy.

Making his decision, he addressed her. “We are not working for or with Gaspard, if that's what your asking.”

She nodded, as though expecting that. “You should know that he has plans to harm the empress tonight, and if you weren't part of the planning process you are likely being used as a pawn. The fact that he is apparently working with Venatori does not put his opinion of the Inquisition in a favorable light, no?”

“So Gaspard is the Venatori agent?” Bull rubbed his chin thoughtfully, fingernails scraping raspily against his stubble.

“Don't believe it is so simple. There is more here at play than just Gaspard. The man is not clever enough by half to plan something like this on his own. Here, take this. One of the agents I killed was carrying it.” She held up her hand, an ornate golden key pressed between her fingers. “It's a copy of a key to the royal wing of the palace. If they had it, there must be something worth investigating over there.”

Dorian took the proffered key, a small, glittering golden piece adorned with small jewels on the handle. It looked more like a charm than an actual key. “Thank you, Briala.” he said sincerely.

“Just do me a favor. Get revenge for these people...they didn't deserve to get caught up in this game.” she said, then she turned and melted into the shadows around the corner.

“We need to get Cole-” Varric began, but stopped short when the boy materialized next to him.

“I'm here.” He said, looking at them expectantly.

“Oh hey, nobody screamed. Good job Cole.” Bull said, clapping the boy on the shoulder so hard his hat tumbled off his head. He scrambled to pick it up, dusting the mud off the rim and frowning at the mess. Dorian frowned, wondering where he had even gotten the hat in the first place, considering Josephine had hidden it from him at the beginning of the night.

“Cole, will you tell Autumn -” Varric began again, but was cut off by Cole.

“Dead in the hallways, so many gone. Briala had a key and a hint and a way through the secrets. Going to investigate.” Cole's voice dropped an octave, and he spoke in a way that imitated Varric rather accurately. “Stay tuned for more information and Gaspard has several somethings up his sleeve. Make sure Curly has several eyes on him at all times.”

Dorian laughed while Varric scowled. “Yeah, thanks Kid. Make sure she gets all...that.” he waved a hand in a flagrant circle.

Cole nodded and disappeared again.

“Well, I guess we need to find the royal wing.” Bull said, and they left the somber servants quarters to head off in the direction of their new destination.

 


	62. Fuck the Orlesians

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Autumn, no, please don't.

Autumn left her current dance partner – whom she had internally dubbed Sir Pickle because she could not be bothered to remember his ineffably long name and his vest was a particular shade of green that reminded her of the fermented vegetable – on the floor once the song had concluded, choosing to duck out the opposite end of the ballroom that she had been using all evening, in an effort to temporarily avoid the next group of nobles attempting to swing her around and chatter away about how the lake near their summer house was “just _divine”_. She fanned herself with her hands, the heat of the room feeling far more oppressive after being in motion for so long. She could feel her damp sweat close to her scalp, her curls threatening to frizz into an uncontrollable mess soon if she didn't cool off and get out of the humidity for a bit. She was sure Dorian would have a fit if all his hard work was lost, and Vivienne would likely take her to task as well. For a woman who was bald, she had a great many opinions about hair and how it should behave.

She slipped behind a pillar, obscuring herself in shadows for a moment and taking large, gulping breaths of air. She leaned against the marble, blessedly cool, and shut her eyes for a bit, indulging in the small hope that when she opened them again she wouldn't be in the Winter Palace anymore, or perhaps at least it wouldn't be full of quite so many Orlesians. She should have pushed more for that burning Orlais to the ground option that she had devised back at Skyhold. At least with that plan her toes wouldn't be threatening to snap under the strain of shoes that felt smaller by the hour.

“If they hurt your feet, you should take them off.” Cole said, his logic bold and brazen in defiance of all the foolishness around them.

“I certainly wish more people had your good sense, Cole. Perhaps we should make _you_ emperor of Orlais.” she smiled, opening her eyes to regard him fondly.

He tilted his head to the side, as if considering the notion, shaggy blonde hair tumbling away from his face. “I don't think I would like that. It would be very loud to run a country.”

She giggled. “That it would. Do you have news?”

“Varric says to tell you they are going into the royal quarters. They met the elf with the mask and she gave them a key. There were...a lot of elves that didn't move anymore, and the one with the mask is very angry.” he darted his gaze away, sadness flickering over his face.

“The elf with the mask...do you mean Briala?”

“Yes. She went looking for her missing friends and found them all dead.”

“ _Fuck_.” Autumn balled her hands into fists, the idea of a bunch of elves lying dead making her stomach lurch. This night was certainly taking a turn for the worse. She closed her eyes, trying to calm her nerves and guide her attention back to things that she actually had the power to do something about, like finding the assassin. “Anything else?”

“Sera says don't eat anything for the rest of the night, Vivienne hasn't asked yet but she wants to know why you stopped dancing and where did you go....oh, and Cullen says he will try not to scowl if you promise to save him a dance.”

Autumn smiled as she felt her heart do a little dance of its own in her chest. “Thank you, Cole.” She pushed herself away from the pillar, standing up straight in her shoes again and bringing a fresh wave of agony over her feet. She straightened the sash wrapped around her middle, ensuring that the dress didn't have any silk out of order. _Maker forbid_ , she thought bitterly.

“I have to go, Cassandra is thinking very loudly about killing a man who is trying to make her dance.” Cole said, and skittered away until he was out of her sight. Autumn shook her head, trying to imagine the man brave enough, or stupid enough, depending on the point of view, to risk the Seeker's ire. Hopefully it wasn’t Rylen again, Cass might actually kill him for a second offense.

She poked her head around the pillar, trying to survey the area without leaving her hiding spot. There was still a large group of people on the other side of the room where she had been picking up dance partners. It made her want to run away when she thought about the fact that she would have to go back over there eventually and start dancing again. Vivienne would never let her hide forever if Cole's message was any indication. Autumn wasn't quite sure which would be worse, another dance with a nobleman who smelled like cheese, or a long lecture from Madame de Fer on why doing so was important. Ignoring the urge to flee for the moment, she let her eyes roam around the room until she finally caught sight of Cullen, standing against the wall and surrounded by people. My my, Autumn thought, it seems I am not the only hot commodity this evening.

She frowned as she watched one of the noblewomen lean in close to him and whisper something in his ear. His cheeks turned that delightful shade of pink that Autumn had come to cherish for herself, and she was struck with the sudden and irrepressible urge to rip the woman's hair out. She would carve off the woman's simpering lips and pin them to the wall, and shriek in defiance if anybody else so much as approached _her_ Commander. For a brief, fleeting moment, Autumn didn't care who she was or what title she held or whether or not Josephine would murder her for it later, Autumn was going to _kill this girl_.

She got as far as three steps towards the group before sense worked its way back into her head and she slowed her approach. Perhaps murder in the middle of the Orlesian court was not the _best_ option available. She had to try and do something though, or it was like to irritate her for the rest of the night, which could only prove more and more dangerous for her unfortunate dance partners. Judging by the strained and frantic look on Cullen’s face, he could use the rescuing. She might not be able to lay her claim to the man out in the open, but surely slipping in and at least putting some doubt into the minds of his admirers wasn't out of the question?

“Oh Commander Cullen, won't you please tell us about your time as a Templar?” one of the girls had her hand resting on his forearm in a way that would have gotten her stabbed had Autumn had anything sharp in her hands. Cullen, looking exceedingly uncomfortable, cleared his throat and attempted to move away from the girl. By chance he glanced up and caught sight of Autumn working her way towards them, and a look of stricken panic passed over his eyes. Autumn gave him the most seductive look she could muster and allowed her hips to sway just a little more than she normally would as she closed the distance left between herself and the group.

“Oh, no ladies. Everyone knows the most interesting stories would be of his time after _leaving_ the Templar.” she purred, causing the women closest to her to jump in surprise. The women (and men, she noticed with some amusement) parted for her, giving her a clear path to Cullen. She smiled, feeling somewhat like an alpha predator catching a bunch of silly lambs out of their pens.

“Inquisitor!” one of the girls squeaked. Several sets of eyes were on her, but she didn't spare a glance for any of them. She made her way up to Cullen and stood before him, biting her bottom lip while she tried her best to smolder. From the way his pupils dilated and his blush deepened, she surmised that it was working.

“I could tell tales that would be as like to set the curtains on fire as they would to entertain.” she purred, leaning in by inches. She was pleased when Cullen swallowed and followed her motion, leaning forward involuntarily. He licked his lips, watching her bite her lip again, hypnotized.

“Oh, you simply _must_ share, Inquisitor!” one of the men behind her exclaimed.

She let out a beleaguered sigh, and in one fluid motion took Cullen's elbow and spun around to face them all. “Unfortunately, my dear friends, I haven't the time at the moment. I have several very... _pressing_ issues to discuss with _my_ Commander. I beg your forgiveness.” she gave them all a polite nod before leading Cullen out of the group and away across the room, towards one of the balconies that seemed less likely to be occupied.

Cullen cleared his throat, face still red. “Maker's breath Autumn, I thought you were about to undress me right there.” his voice was husky and low, the lightest quiver present as he spoke.

She gave him a smug smile before affecting a completely coy expression. “I don't know what you're talking about Commander. I merely wanted to bring your attention to something more productive for a moment.”

“Right, and I'm the new Divine.” he snorted. They made it out to the balcony and both of them glanced around, ensuring their privacy. It took only the merest of seconds once they knew they were alone before Cullen's lips were grazing against the side of her exposed neck, nipping at the sensitive skin just below her ear. She moaned, her body reflexively molding itself to his as his hands wrapped around to cup her backside. “You looked like _sin_ back there.” he murmured, breath hot against her flesh.

“Well, jealousy is supposed to be a sin, right?” She huffed, her lungs feeling far too small to provide air to her, her mind whirling as his lips carved a path of desire down her neck.

“Mm, perhaps I should make you jealous more often.” he chuckled darkly, bringing his head up to claim her lips.

The moment was over far, far too quickly for either of their liking, but when a laugh rang out into the night air close enough to the door of the balcony they stepped apart from one another. They stared at each other as they both tried to catch their breath, faces flushed and lips tingling from their brief moment of passion. Autumn's heart was pounding against her ribs, and she was positive that she had never wanted anyone more than she wanted Cullen in this moment.

“Josephine and Vivienne can _hang_ , I don't think I could stop you if you took me right here on this balcony.” she whispered, the ache between her thighs feeling monumental.

Cullen closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. “Just what would the Orlesians think, my love?” he said it jokingly, but she could tell that he wanted what she did just as badly by the timbre of his voice.

“ _Fuck_ the Orlesians.” she replied, wishing she could impart more venom in her words. Her voice was too shaky to be very effective.

Cullen stepped close again. “Please don't.” he whispered, his lips brushing gently against her ears. She shivered and he ran his hand down her back again, letting it rest at the bottom of her spine and sending tingles all throughout her body. “When this is over, _you. Are. Mine._ ” his voice was a growl, a low, guttural sound that very nearly sent her over the edge. A sigh worked its way out of her throat as she closed her eyes and focused on trying to keep her knees from buckling.

Then he stepped back again, for good this time, and neither of them could help the giddy grins that they gave each other. The breeze that picked up and brushed against their skin was like a miracle, cooling temperatures that had risen far too much in their brief interlude together. Autumn felt her pulse return to something more manageable just in time, as another couple stepped out onto the balcony and their moment of peace was shattered. They walked back into the ballroom, fingertips brushing together occasionally, appearing accidental despite the fact that it was very much deliberate.

“At any rate, at least a couple of those insufferable girls hovering around you will have been frightened off by my display.” she said quietly, just before they would need to part and go their separate ways again.

Cullen gave her an adoring smile. “You know yours is the only attention worth having, right?” his voice was low enough that only she could hear him. She felt herself blush in spite of herself, the admission easing a tension in her chest that she hadn't realized was bothering her so much.

She placed a polite, chaste kiss on his cheek, wishing that she could do more but knowing that there were eyes watching them carefully now. “Save me that dance, Commander.” she replied primly. She was rewarded with a warm smile before he turned and walked away. Autumn sighed before she returned to her own collection of unwanted admirers.

It was painful to note the night was still young, and there was still a great deal for the Inquisition to do before they could leave and go home.

***

The high pitched scream of a nearby noblewoman had Cullen reaching for a sword that wasn't there as he made his way across the room. Briefly, he considered drawing one of the small blades tucked away in his boots, before he scanned the room and realized the source of the drama. A group of Orlesians, all looking ostensibly horrified, were all clutching at their mouths, plates of cake laying scattered on the ground at their feet. His first instinct was to think it was poison, and he started walking over to see how he could be of assistance. When one of the women let out a muffled cry of terror at his approach, he was slightly taken aback. Confused he halted, staring around at the growing number of people holding their hands over their mouths, abject horror written plainly on their faces.

Finally he caught sight of the source of the problem when a woman, oblivious to her own affliction, smiled broadly, teeth and lips stained an alarming black color. “Don't eat the cake!” someone cried, and the warning was passed around as people moved away from the table holding the refreshments, as though the cake would chase after them to inflict its damage on the unwary.

It was no great surprise to him after that when Vivienne marched up to him, dragging Sera by her ear. “ _This_ one was found by the kitchen staff putting _ink_ in the frosting for the petite fours.” Vivienne snapped, glaring at Sera as though she were considering using the elf to create another ice sculpture to adorn the tables.

Sera winced as Vivienne gave her ear a final tug before letting go. She straightened up, sullenly rubbing the abused appendage. “Wot? I coulda done much worse. You're lucky Cole talked me out of the itching powder in the -”

“Sera, weren't you supposed to be looking for useful information?” Cullen asked, not wishing to hear exactly what it was the itching powder would have been used for.

`”I was! Just having a bit of fun at the expense of a few snob nobs. No harm done, eh?” Sera crossed her arms stubbornly, but she was looking at Cullen with no small amount of trepidation and hope. Even Sera didn't want to be left to the mercies of the Iron Lady.

“If word got out a member of the _Inquisition_ caused this abhorrent mess, we would be the laughing stock of the ball.” Vivienne hissed. She spared a quick glance around and then leaned forward, speaking even lower. “You could have at least put it in the _right_ cakes, as opposed to blindly throwing it on all of them.”

Sera slapped her forehead, eyes widening. “Oh right! Shite, I coulda made sure only the really hateful arseholes got it! Gaspardo coulda been one! And that guy that looks like a pickle! He should get it for pickle reasons.”

The enchanter rolled her eyes. “Leave it to you to waste a perfectly good opportunity.”

“I suppose next time you want her to check with you first?” Cullen was trying valiantly to suppress his laughter at the idea.

“Well, it would have gone better than _this_ , I can assure you.” Vivienne scoffed.

“Very well then, I will leave you to deal with her for the rest of the evening.” Cullen smirked as he turned around and walked away. He heard the pair of them bickering over cake placement as he went, and couldn't help but chuckle. Vivienne and Sera working on pranks together might have been the last thing that he had ever expected to come out of the night, but he supposed Orlais had to be good for _something_.

 


	63. Stupid Fancy Shirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the plot thickens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a link to a picture of the dress I used as my inspiration, if anybody is interested. I changed the color in the story, obviously. 
> 
> http://www.onlinepromdress.com/upfile/Occasion%20Dresses/Evening%20Dresses/High%20Neck%20Embroidery%20Backless%20Brown%20Evening%20Dress.jpg

The ornate key slipped into the door, and the handle turned with just a whisper of sound, the mechanical pieces of the lock and knob oiled to run flawlessly. Yet another small piece of life tended into perfection by the servants that kept Orlais running behind the scenes. Inside, the royal wing was a level of opulence Dorian had rarely seen, even as the son of a Magister in Tevinter. Gold adorned almost everything, carved into the furniture, molded into busts of historical figures long ago forgotten, framing large, expensive commissioned paintings of some duke's favorite group of dogs or their fondest hunting spot, even woven into the fabrics of the drapery and linens, as though the skin of those who slept here needed extravagance just to close their eyes at night. Each room that they checked was much the same, indulgence stacked upon indulgence, woefully empty for the time being as their occupants danced the night away below. It was eerily quiet in the absence of the royals, not even servants flitting about, their chores having been tended to far earlier in the day.

At least it was quiet, until they heard the shrill scream echo in their ears, muffled as it worked its way through the thick door and down the hall where the party crept. It took only a glance between them before they were racing towards the sound.

The door was locked when Dorian turned the handle. Varric shoved him out of the way, leaning down to work at the device with his lock picks until they heard another muffled shout from behind it, this one more of a whimper Bull lost his patience at the sound, and Varric was only just able to scramble out of the way before the Qunari's massive foot slammed into the wood, shattering it and sending it flying off the hinges. Within they found another jester leering over an elven woman, cowering in the corner, slashes across her arms where she had obviously tried to ward off a previous attack. The jester spun, facing them with wide eyes for only the merest breadth of time before she was thrown back. A rocky, disembodied fist was thrusting into her gut and propelling her through the window, out into the night air, her final words a soft “ooph” escaping before she fell to her death below. Solas quietly returned his staff to his back, his spell having served its purpose, before he knelt before the woman and held out his hand. She took it, and was shakily helped to her feet, staring at all of them with wide eyes, fear and doubt mingling in her expression.

“Are you hurt?” Solas asked her, gesturing towards the cuts on her arms. She glanced at them and rubbed the blood on her dress, grimacing at the mess.

“Um...just...just some cuts, m'lord.” she stuttered, her voice trembling slightly.

“Here, let me see da'len.” he held out his hands to her. Reluctantly, she put her arms forward, and Solas took them with gentle movements, a slight glow emanating from his palms as he healed the superficial wounds.

Dorian gave her a warm smile while Solas worked. “What are you doing in here? I thought all the servants would be gone for the night.”

“I got...I received a message from Briala to come.” she seemed to collapse inwardly under the strain of her emotions, pain passing over her expression that likely had little to do with her injuries. “She set me up.”

“Briala told you to come here herself?” Varric's eyebrows were creeping towards his hairline.

“No, ser. She leaves messages for us, but...it must have been her. Who else could have known?” her brows met each other over the bridge of her nose. Solas had finished his work and returned her arms to her, as good as new. She gave him a grateful, albeit weak smile.

“Something doesn't add up.” Bull groused. “If Briala sent _her_ here, why would she send us?”

Dorian nervously straightened his mustache as he thought about it. Either Briala wasn't being as forthcoming with them as they thought, or Briala hadn't sent that message. “You're sure no one else could have sent the message to you?” he asked the elven lass.

“No, ser. It _had_ to have been her.” she shook her head vehemently. “She must...she must have done it because I knew her back when she was Celene's lover.”

“Her lover?” Bull guffawed.

“Yes. She slept with the empress while our people burned in the alienage.” the woman grit her teeth, slender hands balling into fists. It was obviously a spot of contention between them.

“Perhaps the intention was to use her as a distraction, so that the Venatori agents that might remain here.” Solas offered, his expression darkening.

“Yes. She sends us here, then sends her. She gets taken out of the picture, and we arrive in time to be warned, so the Venatori can't get the drop on us. I don’t much approve of the method, but it certainly worked.” Varric shrugged.

“Lucky for her we got here early.” Bull added, jerking his thumb towards the angry elven girl.

“Darling, now that you're safe, why don't you head out to the ballroom and find some of the Inquisition members? Tell them...” Dorian paused, trying to think of something convincing that she could say so they would know who sent her.

“Tell 'em Sparkler sent you, they'll figure it out. Don't talk to anybody else about any of this until you hear from us or the Inquisitor, got it?” Varric waved a hand as she nodded, dismissing the affair before hefting Bianca and sticking his head out into the hall. “The coast is clear for now, better get a move on.”

The elven girl wasted no time, and slipped around the wreckage of the door and down the hall, her footfalls making no noise during her exit. The thick silence descended around them once again, and Dorian felt like the lack of sound was tearing at the edges of his nerves. He half expected a door in the hallway to open and Venatori to start pouring out. Everything about this screamed _trap_. The question was, whose trap was it? And was it meant for them, or someone else?

“I don't like this.” Bull growled, eying the doors warily, as though he had the same thoughts.

“Well, Briala didn't say exactly _what_ we would find...” Varric murmured.

“Check the rooms and stay quiet.” Solas ordered, striding forward to open a door.

Only around a third of the doors were locked, and these Varric made quick work of with his tools. They were greeted with deserted chamber after chamber, quiet glittering opulence staring at them in the darkness. Dorian was beginning to think the whole thing was a red herring when they finally got to a room locked with a magical seal. _Something_ could be heard making noise on the other side, but through the thick wood and humming magic they couldn't tell who or what it was.

“Alright Sparkler, Chuckles, this one seems a bit beyond my realm of expertise.” Varric gave them a slightly facetious bow.

Solas approached the door, his chin in his hand as he considered it. “There should be some kind of key for it somewhere...”

“There's slots in the walls where some of the statues are missing.” Bull pointed out. Indeed, there were five conspicuously empty sections of the shelving surrounding the door.

Solas waved a hand at one of the sconces and it lit up with a faint blue glow. “There, the keys should have a matching glow now, we should be able to seek them out.”

“They could be literally anywhere though. How do we know the empress doesn't have them on her still?” Dorian asked, feeling defeated. They could search all night and never track them down.

“Not likely. Look at the size of the spaces...that would make a pretty hefty keyring.” Varric was looking at the empty slots dubiously.

“They'll be nearby. You don't go through the trouble of making a key look like an ordinary object unless you want to hide it close, in plain sight. They're somewhere around here.” Bull added.

“Well, I guess we have no choice but to look for them, then.” Dorian threw up his hands in acquiescence.

Thankfully it took far less time than Dorian had feared. The statues, elegant carved halla on heavy stands, were indeed hidden around the rooms in plain sight. The glow that Solas had cast on them made them easy to locate, and it had only been about half an hour before they had discovered all five of them. They fit into the slots without much preamble, and the enchantment around the door faded, the faint tingle of magic disappearing from the air and leaving only the eerie silence again. They pushed open the door carefully, still unsure as to what was going on inside. Dorian could have imagined any number of things waiting for them, a Venatori trap, perhaps another servant locked away, but what the found not only surprised him but exceeded his wildest expectations.

Laid out on the bed, hands and feet tied to the posts, was a very irate man, stark naked but for an Imperial army helmet still strapped to his head. For a moment, everyone in the room just stared at him silently, the man staring back with trepidation, taking in the armed men before him with what Dorian could only assume was alarm. He couldn't rightly blame him, either. If it had been Dorian tied up and helpless as his Maker given family jewels shriveled in the cold, he might have had a far more desperate reaction. Then again, he considered himself far too clever to ever be caught in such a predicament.

“Are you here to kill me?” the man finally asked, the apple of his throat bobbing erratically as he swallowed nervously.

“Well it wasn't on the agenda as far as I knew.” Dorian quipped, giving the man a sultry smile. Unsurprisingly this only served to make the man look more nervous.

“Aren't these... _Celene’s_ quarters?” Varric asked, looking around in shock. Dorian surveyed the area, and noticed this room was, in fact, more lavish than the others. Add that to the increased security, and it would certainly make sense. That made things immeasurably more interesting. Why was a naked soldier strapped to Celene's bed?

“My my, the empress has been busy it seems.” Dorian said. He was beginning to like the pale leader of Orlais.

“It's not what it seems!” the man cried. “Oh, I wish it _was_ what it seemed...” a blush crept its way from his cheeks and down across his chest. Dorian giggled as he watched it creep even lower.

“What, pray tell, _is_ this, if it isn't what it seems?” Dorian purred.

“I was...I was spying for the empress, giving her information about Gaspard. He had plans tonight, and when I delivered them she said she was going to reward me, and I thought...well, I thought...” he swallowed again, looking increasingly more embarrassed. “Well I think you can all guess what I bloody thought.”

“Hummingbird is gonna love this.” Varric chuckled, shaking his head.

Dorian could not have wiped the grin off of his face if he had tried. “Not as much as I do.”

“So Gaspard has men waiting to strike tonight?” Bull asked, giving Dorian a reprimanding look.

“Yes, sers. Celene has a trap set for them. She was going to wait for him to strike, then all the court could see his treachery and accuse him of treason.”

“Something tells me she hadn't planned on the Venatori showing up.” Varric said.

“Venatori?!” the man cried, alarm forcing his voice to take on a shrill tenor. His eyes darted around the room as if he suspected they would leap out of the drapery.

“That answers that question, then.” Dorian laughed. “Alright, good ser. We'll untie you, get you something to wear, and then would you do us a favor and report directly to the Inquisition soldiers?” Dorian leaned over and started undoing the bindings around the man’s limbs.

“Oh yes, ser, absolutely ser. Only...do I have to tell them about...uh...this?”

“Don't breathe a word of it to anyone except the Inquisitor, if she happens to ask. And tell the soldiers Sparkler sent you, they'll know what to do with you.” Dorian finished with his bindings, and Varric tossed him a set of breeches and a shirt. Dorian had no idea where the dwarf had found them, but he supposed that was the benefit of having a rogue in the party. The man babbled another stream of thanks before he shuffled out of the room to find his way back out.

“Someone should...wait, he's already here, isn't he?” Bull started, but before he had finished the sentence Cole had, in fact, materialized behind him. Dorian grinned at the display, knowing full well that it would happen. Cole was getting incredibly efficient at popping up the moment anyone so much as thought of him.

“I'm here.” he said, unnecessarily.

“How are things going out there Kid?” Varric asked.

“Sera put ink in the cakes, and Vivienne got upset that she did it out of order. Autumn doesn't like the pretty ones that talk to her Commander, but Cullen looks at them like they aren't really there, because when he looks he sees the bad ones from the tower. Autumn doesn't like her shrinking shoes. Also Seeker Cassandra got very angry at a man who wanted to dance with her, and she wanted to stab him with something but when I came to stop her the man got scared and ran away.” Cole recited.

Varric let out a low whistle. “We are missing one riot of a party.”

“At least now you know never to ask our dear Seeker to dance.” Dorian smirked as Varric blushed, astutely avoiding everyone's knowing glances.

“No, she would dance with the ones she likes.” Cole stated very factually, looking at them in confusion. Varric's blush deepened, and Dorian very nearly launched into teasing him about it, but Solas jumped into the conversation, bringing their attention back to the business at hand.

“Cole, would you please tell Autumn that Gaspard was planning an attack on Celene, but the empress already knew about it. Also let her know that Briala seems to be working on our side, but is trying to cover up her own secrets as well.”

Cole nodded. “Layers on layers of treachery. Two hearts beating across different sides of an empire, tearing at the bridges that are too far to cross. Everything inside them is sad.”

“Right. That.” Bull rolled his eyes at the boy's cryptic speech patterns.

“Make sure Hummingbird knows we’re going to finish our sweep of this wing before we head back out to the ballroom. And tell Josephine we'll need those spare uniforms delivered at the rendezvous point. We might stick out a bit if we show up again looking like this.” Varric spared a dubious glance at Bull in particular, who was covered in blood splatters and splinters from the door he murdered earlier, and his jacket was split in no less than seven places. Bull attempted to brush some of the mess off under the scrutiny, scowling when that only seemed to smear it into the fine fabric further.

“Stupid fancy shirt.” he mumbled angrily.

Cole nodded and disappeared again, a small cloud of smoke the only sign that he had even been there at all. Dorian made a mental note to ask him how he did that one of these days. The science behind such a trick must be simply fascinating.

Something peculiar caught his attention then. Out of the corner of his eye he picked up a pattern unlike most of the other patterns covering the room, or even the rest of the wing. There on the dresser rested a locket that was definitely not of Orlesian make. He walked over and picked it up, turning it over as he inspected it. It was a dull, tarnished metal, inlaid with delicate leaves and branches. The locket was attached to a simple chain. It was a remarkably shabby piece of jewelry, especially when compared to some of the other pieces that had been sitting next to it. It also looked quite worse for wear, small dings and scratches showing through on the coppery surface.

“What'd you find, Sparkler?” Varric leaned over, looking at the locket curiously.

“This seems rather out of place here, doesn't it?” he handed it over to the dwarf, who gave it a cursory inspection and then passed it on to Solas.

“It is elven.” Solas said with surety, turning it over a couple of times himself before he, in turn, passed it to Bull.

“Why would she have an elven locket? It's not even that pretty.” Bull mused.

“The servant said she used to be lovers with Briala...possibly a memento?” Dorian offered.

Bull slipped the locket into the pocket of his pants. “We should take this and give it to Autumn when we head back. She would want to see it.”

“Alright, let's finish looking around and get out of here. All this finery is beginning to make me nauseous.” Varric grimaced, hefting Bianca and heading towards the door.

He was only a few footsteps into the hallway before one of the other doors down the hall burst open and a group of well armed men burst into view.

 


	64. You Shouldn't Go Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Autumn is convinced to make a bad decision.

The fizzy thrum of the champagne was finally starting to get to her head, and Autumn was beginning to see the ball through a pleasantly warm haze. She had tried to avoid drinking, knowing that she needed to keep her wits about her for the evening, but after a particularly insufferable noble had prattled on for one sentence too long she had turned to her glass as a rescue, sipping at the liquid celebration to keep her sanity, to take the edge off of her temper. She was not by any means drunk, but she had lost count of her consumption awhile ago, and knew that she would have to be careful to avoid making a fool out of herself. Her tongue already felt too loose in her head, and she knew it was liable to flap away if she didn't keep a firm hold on it.The sharp pain of biting back her words was preferable to the throbbing in her tortured feet, however, which she was no longer quite aware of as her body drifted away on the tide of warmth only alcohol could provide.

The line of people waiting to dance with her had finally tapered off, most of the interested parties having already had one turn with her, and few were feeling greedy or foolhardy enough to try for a second. She was left to stand in idle, polite conversation with several people. She smiled brightly as they went on, nodding occasionally while almost completely oblivious to the actual topics of discussion. She didn't even rightly know who she was talking to, having forgotten their names seconds after they had been introduced.

She focused most of her attention on the ball at large, watching the groups of people mingle and intermingle, the graceful dances being performed by people obsessed with keeping every piece of fabric, every single hair in place and in line, lest they stick out for the wrong reasons. It was more interesting to watch the faceless people interacting with one another than to focus on what was happening with her own people, to watch Cullen be fawned over by women who didn't stand a chance, but still got under her skin nonetheless.

She had watched Vivienne for a time, which was interesting because the woman's presence demanded the attention of those around her. The nobles seemed obliged to pay homage to her, and she seemed completely comfortable accepting their attention, the enchanter being more in her element this evening than Autumn had seen for some time. She had watched long enough to see Vivienne surround herself with acceptable people, and use Sera (a turn of events Autumn would not have believed if she had not seen it herself) to drive away and punish those that the Iron Lady found unsuitable. Vivienne was a lot like a dangerous spider. She wove a web of beauty, that sparkled in the sunlight and drew in all those who happened by, but once they were ensnared she was as like to wrap them up in a safe cocoon of influence as she was to rip their proverbial heads off and drain them of blood.

After she grew tired of watching her enchanting enchanter do what she did best, her gaze wandered aimlessly over the crowds, idly judging these people who seemed to have no concept of the world outside their pretty little bubbles. It was because she was not paying attention to the people before her that she hadn’t noticed Grand Duchess Florianne's regard, a steady stare from across the room that, once noticed, seemed to drill into Autumn and pin her to the wall like a specimen to be observed. When their eyes met, the Duchess' lips quirked in a slow, syrupy smile before she handed her glass off to someone next to her and made her way over. Autumn watched her move and quietly braced herself for the encounter, knowing that this woman was a dangerous and capable player of the grand Game, and not one to be trifled with lightly. She wasn't sure if the liquid courage from the champagne was going to be an advantage or a handicap, but there was no helping it now. This was going to happen, whether she wished it to or not.

Florianne made her way over with the same easy grace that she had shown earlier in the night, her movement so smooth as to make her appear to be gliding across the room, slipping between people like a shadow on the forest floor, masked by the confusion all around her and nearly unnoticed unless one was watching carefully. When she arrived she smiled pleasantly to those around before giving a perfectly respectable bow to Autumn herself, flashing a grin that could almost be construed as facetious, but not brazen enough to be called on or questioned.

“Inquisitor, you are a welcome sight to weary eyes. Come, walk with me that we may talk.” she held out her elbow and Autumn took it, the pair linking arms and strolling languidly away from the others, heading towards a more secluded path that offered a modicum of privacy.

“How are you finding the ball?” the Duchess finally asked, her tone even and giving nothing away of her mood or intentions.

“As anything else in Orlais, it is both entertaining and vital. I am honored to be able to participate in such an auspicious occasion.” she replied with just as much passive grace.

“You have a respect for the empire. I am surprised. It is rare to find a Marcher who can respect real power. Most of them prefer to cling to their claims of freedom, even if it means they wallow in the mud like animals.” there was a sharp edge to her tone, leaving no doubt as to whether or not the jibe was meant as an insult.

Autumn let it roll of her back, a harsh wind against a solid stone. She would not be goaded so easily. “You'll find I break a great many conventions, your grace.”

Florianne smiled, although the expression was far from warm. “I would expect no less from the leader of the Inquisition.”

“Then why would you be surprised?” Autumn asked sweetly.

For the tiniest fraction of a second, Florianne frowned, but it was replaced with an easy smile so quickly Autumn was almost convinced that she had imagined it. “It is not often this world meets my expectations, your worship.”

They lapsed into a tense silence as their walk carried them through a crowded hallway. It was curious to walk, arm in arm with someone Autumn hardly knew. It was such a familiar gesture to be carried out with a stranger that it felt surreal, as though she had been supplanted into some other person's life momentarily. It was an act, of course. Florianne behaved so not because she held any real endearment for Autumn, but because it behooved her to appear as such. If she looked to be in the good graces with the Inquisitor it would elevate the opinions that others had of her, which said to Autumn that she must have been successful in her endeavors this evening. If Florianne thought it prudent to appear at her side, then the court must have high approval of her indeed.

They made their way out of the hallway and onto one of the palace's many balconies. The gentlemen that had already occupied the space were entangled in one another in a heated embrace, not entirely unlike the one Autumn had shared with Cullen earlier, and she smiled slightly at the memory. When Florianne cleared her throat pointedly the pair jumped apart, both men looking ill when they realized who had interrupted their tryst. Autumn gave them a warm smile, but Florianne glared at them until they bowed, mumbling apologies before they beat a hasty retreat.

“Inquisitor, may I be frank with you?” Florianne asked, releasing her arm to lean against the balcony railing, affecting a posture that was altogether too casual and not at all fooling Autumn. She could still see the tension in the woman's shoulders, belying any relaxation she might be trying to feign.

“I was unaware I should expect anything less from you, your grace.” Autumn let her lips quirk in a mischievous smile, turning the Duchess earlier comments back on her. Florianne smiled like a wolf backed into a corner, her teeth flashing dangerously between her painted lips.

“Then I hope I shall meet and even exceed your expectations, your worship.” Florianne shifted her gaze away from Autumn, eyes falling to the quiet courtyards below. “I am afraid not everything tonight is as...civilized as it seems. I worry about my brother, Inquisitor. He has a great deal of passion for this country, and I am afraid of what he would do in the name of Orlais.”

Autumn leaned against the railing next to her, letting her hip rest against the cool stone as she crossed her arms in front of her. “You mean to say you think he is up to something?” she asked lightly. Of course, she already knew that he was. The question was why was Florianne tipping her off, and how much did the Duchess know. She had the same predatory quality about her that her brother did, a fierce fire burning within her eyes that made Autumn loathe to trust anything she said. But, if she was not working with Gaspard, then perhaps she was an ally after all?

“I believe so, yes. I love my brother, and I would hate to see any harm befall him, but I think he has gotten tangled in something beyond his control. He goes too far in his reach for power, and no man can be permitted to continue in such folly, not even a beloved member of my family.” She looked sad, worried. The expression in her eyes seemed sincere enough.

“What do you know?”

“Not much, I am afraid. He has grown quite distant in recent weeks. I only know there is something important happening in the southernmost courtyard.” she turned, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Please, Inquisitor, you must go there. You _must_ find whatever he plans and put a stop to it.” she grabbed Autumn's hand, her fingers warm as she pressed them together with hers. “For the sake of Orlais, and all those people in there, you must find out what he wants.” when she pulled her hand away Autumn found a small key pressed into her palm. “This leads to the courtyard. If you hurry, you should still be in time to stop whatever he has put in motion.”

Florianne gave a hasty bow before she turned and all but fled off the balcony. Autumn held the key in her hand, mulling over her options in her mind. She could try and wait, deliver the key to the part of Inquisition members when they returned, but she had no idea how long that might take. She could go and give the key to Cullen or Leliana, and have them deal with it, but was there time?

“Cole.” she said, and the spirit was there only a moment after his name left her lips. She gave him a nervous smile, her heart thrumming erratically in her chest. “I have to go to the southern courtyard right away. I need your daggers, and I need you to tell the others where I've gone.”

“You shouldn't go alone.” he said, but he unstrapped his weapons and handed them over to her.

She took the blades in hand and searched herself for a moment before finding a way to wrap them in the trail of the sash in the back of her dress. They were concealed well enough, and she could pull them out at a moment's notice. “There's no time to get the others, and I need you to pass on the message I'm sure I'll be fine.” she told him absently. When he didn't respond she looked at him, his eyes filled with doubt as he frowned at her. She reached up and gave him a tender pat on the cheek. “I'll be okay.” she promised him again.

“Cullen is going to be very angry.” Cole muttered, but he nodded and moved away, disappearing around the corner like a drift of fog in the wind.

Checking her weapons one more time and ensuring she had the key in hand, Autumn braced her shoulders and made her way towards the door to the southern courtyard to find out what exactly Gaspard had up his sleeve. She hoped this was the right course of action, and she fervently hoped Florianne could be trusted.

*******

The men who barreled towards Bull and his companions were not Venatori. They wore expensive but plain, unadorned armor and seemed to take the presence of anyone else in the area as a threat, although whether that meant they were with or against the Venatori was still in question. One man, obviously the leader of the group, let out a loud bellow as he ordered the others to attack, a demand that was not entirely necessary as they had already fallen upon the surprised Inquisition team.

Bull was grateful for the barrier Dorian managed to pull around his bulk as he readied his weapon, the blow that one of the attackers had aimed at his midsection bouncing off the magic and clanging back against his opponents helm. With a menacing growl, Bull brought his own axe upward in a sharp swing, catching the surprised foe int he hip and sending him flying across the hall, crashing into two of his companions with a loud clattering of weighted metal and leather.

“These aren’t Venatori!” Varric shouted over the sound of Bianca firing, a bolt smashing into the side of another helmet sending the poor man careening away, dazed from the blow. A second bolt followed quickly, sinking into his neck and ending his fruitless struggle as he toppled to the ground.

“No shit!” Bull added, turning to count their foes. There were, in all, seven men still standing in addition to the leader, who held back from the melee.

Make that six, Bull amended to himself as one of them was blasted to pieces from the force of the fire mine placed at his feet. He looked over, casting an admiring smile at Dorian, who was already continuing his complicated dance and readying another spell for some other unlucky recipient. He took a moment to admire the way he looked, taking in the tension in his muscles as he spun his staff, the way his torso arched as the magic flowed through him. Dorian was fucking beautiful when he fought, his eyes alight with fervor and battle lust. The way his fire spells cast rhythmic light around him, flashing brightly against his skin, made him look like a living bronze statue, as dangerous as he was lovely, and tempting enough to make Bull shudder at the thought of what it might feel like to run his tongue along the man's jaw.

As desirable as it was to watch the Tevinter mage, Bull shook his head and returned his attention to the task at hand. He had paid dearly on more than one occasion for letting Dorian draw his attention during battle, and now was not the time to let it happen again. He let out a roar, reveling in the way the sound tore itself out of his throat and made the men before them turn their heads, eyes wide as they took in the sight of the horned beast bearing down on them. It was satisfying when another two went down, lightning crackling between them as their inattention had left them too close together, Solas taking full advantage of the misstep. Bull spun, hefting his axe in his hands as he did so, cutting through the crowd and managing to land forceful blows on three more of the men. Two of them buckled under the hits and rolled away, their heavy bodies hitting the ground like felled trees, no more animation in their limbs than sodden lumber. The third spun away, his arm sagging helplessly from the damage done to his shoulder, blood seeping through the cracks in his armor to pool onto the carpet below. His eyes were still wide as he stared at Bull, who gave him a feral grin and stomped forward to finish the job.

He was robbed of the chance when a bolt buried into the man's neck, Varric's aim impeccable as always. Bull gave the dwarf a withering look for the steal as the last opponent dropped to the ground, a twitching pile of charred flesh and armor that flooded the hallway with a sickly aroma. Bull steeled himself against it, the ability for such a smell to make him retch having faded long ago. He had been in too many battles with the fire mage to be disabled by it at this point, although it was still an unpleasant scent.

The leader's weapon dropped onto the ground, thudding heavily against the carpet with a slightly damp plop, sinking into the blood of his fallen men. He tore off his helmet and tossed it aside, holding his hands up, palm out, in front of him in surrender.

“I yield.” he said shakily.

Dorian snapped his fingers and a small flame appeared in the palm of his hand, the light dancing across his skin and reflecting in the beads of sweat that formed there, making him a malicious, glittering god. “Why should we let you?” he growled.

“Whatever you want me to do, I'll do it. I have information, I have contacts, I'll get on my knees and beg with my mouth, if that's what you want. Anything for my life.” the man said gruffly, not even batting an eye at his own lewd suggestion.

“Let's try your information first and see if it's worth your life.” Dorian snapped, his jaw clenched in anger. “Why are you here?”

“I'm the captain of the mercenary crew hired by Gaspard. We were to infiltrate the palace and assist with the assassination of empress Celene.” he replied evenly.

“You with the Venatori?” Varric asked, Bianca trained on the man as he waited for the answer.

“The mage cult? We were unaware of their involvement until tonight.” the man's eyes darted to the side.

“Coin too good to walk away from the job even after you found out you'd be working with mages?” Dorian sneered.

“What do you know about Gaspard's plans?” Varric ignored Dorian's outburst.

“Kill the empress, take over the palace. There's a trap for some noble or other laid in the Southern Courtyard. We weren't handling that part of the operation, so I don't know much about it. The Duchess set it up to kill the leader of some rival organization.” the man's secrets spilled from his lips easily, his own skin worth far more to him than his loyalties. “We were supposed to wait for the signal after the noble got offed, then raid the ball while the assassins took out the empress. I was in this hallway setting up men around the empress quarters, in case she fled and tried to gather anything before she left, purely for backup purposes.”

“A rival organization?” Solas’ brows furrowed. “The Inquisition?”

“Yeah, that.” the man took note of the alarmed expression that passed over all of their faces. “Listen, if that's you and you don't want your leader dead, you might want to get your people to the courtyard pronto. The trap should have been sprung by now.”

Solas swore violently as he took off down the hall, heading towards the southern part of the palace before the rest of them could react. Dorian extinguished the flames in his palm and summoned another spell, flinging it at the mercenary captain deftly. The man wavered for only a second before collapsing on the ground, breath evening out as he slumbered peacefully. Varric kicked him over so he wouldn't suffocate against the wet carpet.

Dorian rounded on Varric. “Stay here and watch that man, call Cole or something.” he snapped, then he turned his attention to Bull. “Come on, we have to get to that courtyard _now_.”

They ran down the hall, the faint rush of air of Cole's arrival fading as they ran out of earshot. Bull felt a tight ball of fear coil itself around his gut as he sent out a silent prayer to whatever god granted wishes that they wouldn't be too late.

 


	65. He Would Protect Her This Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cole panics and Autumn is not in a very good situation.

Cullen smiled placidly at the nobleman attempting to flirt with him. He nodded where appropriate and politely declined the third offer to slip away for drinks. He was nearing the point of asking his soldiers to come and create a physical barrier between him and his admirers when the sea of people seemed to part, the languid approach of Duchess Florianne causing them to skitter to the side, insects fleeing from the edge of the light. Cullen met the woman's gaze as she stared at him, every step bringing her closer and giving him the distinct feeling that he was being stalked. He swallowed involuntarily, wondering if he should just turn and run to avoid whatever political disaster that he was sure to cause in dealing with her.

“Commander Cullen. You seem to be doing well this evening.” she stated, an eyebrow twitching upward as she smiled. Her eyes darted to the people pressed a respectable distance away now, as though Florianne carried some unseen barrier that pushed them back.

He cleared his throat. “I am...I certainly feel welcome, your grace.”

She laughed, tilting her head back and placing a hand on his shoulder as though this was the funniest thing she had ever heard. It took a great deal of effort for him to keep from frowning down at the offending limb, or recoiling away in alarm. Instead he awkwardly flinched, keeping his expression even as he hoped she hadn't noticed.

“Come, commander. Dance with me.” It was not a question, and Cullen was very much aware that she was not going to give him the opportunity to refuse. He glanced around nervously, wondering if there was any excuse to get him out of agreeing. Instead his eyes met Josephine's across the room, who was looking at him so fiercely that he wasn't sure she was even breathing while she watched their exchange. Cullen knew there was no helping it, he would have to relent.

Holding out his hand to the Duchess, he gave her a smile that he hoped didn't look as strained as it felt. “It would be an honor, my lady.” Her eyes sparkled dangerously, and he hoped for her sake that Autumn didn't notice this dance. He couldn't see where she was in the room anymore, but if her jealousy from earlier was any indication to how she might react, they could all be in peril if she had to watch him actually dance with another woman.

He led her out to the floor, taking her hand in his and holding it up while placing his other on her waist. He attempted to set a decent amount of distance between them but she pressed in, pulling herself close so that her dress brushed against his legs, barely any space between their bodies at all. She didn't speak as the music started and the dance began, but kept her eyes locked onto his, a rapacious aura lurking in those dark depths. It felt unnervingly like she was devouring him, every blink another bite clenching down around his throat.

Cullen knew very well that he was prey, and he felt helpless as he spun the predator around the ballroom while the music hung heavy in the air.

*******

Cole materialized in the shadowy corner of the ballroom, his heart fluttering in his chest and his breath coming in quick, uneven gasps. His nerves felt like they were screaming, knowing that Autumn was going into danger alone, and he wanted to deliver his messages and find her again. She might need him. She probably needed him.

He looked around for Cullen, not finding him in his usual post against the wall. He closed his eyes and listened, although he knew it was futile before he tried. He couldn't hear him around all the other voices in the room, the cacophony of thoughts rumbling through him, an indistinct murmur that rose in crescendo every so often before crashing down in a confusing jumble of emotions. It was almost impossible to hear anything in here, unless he could meet the eyes of the person and see the life there while he listened. It made everything seem both too loud and too quiet, the lack of understanding in the rumble turning it into an aggravating background noise. He couldn't hear his friends, couldn't hear Cullen or Autumn or Varric anymore. It made him feel empty, like he was going to disappear, the old fear of slipping away coming back and rearing its head like his own personal terror. He could feel the blackness within him, creeping under the surface, and it made him miss the light in Autumn painfully, as though it had already been torn from this world and he might never see it again.

He opened his eyes again and scanned the room, trying to ignore the ache eating away at him. Finally he caught sight of the jacket he was looking for, twirling around the dark woman with the pale hair. He couldn't get to Cullen if he was out there, people would notice him and their fear would dig in like barbs and he _knew_ he would get in trouble for startling the people who couldn't understand him. Cole's heart rate increased, and for a moment he felt paralyzed, unsure of what he should do if he couldn't get his information to Cullen. He couldn't leave without telling them what Varric had said, but he might be the only one who could get to Autumn in time.

“Cole?” a soft voice broke him out of his trance, and he spun to see the Nightingale looking at him with a worried expression. “Are you looking for Cullen? Did something happen?”

“Varric needs help in the royal wing and Autumn is in danger. I have to go!” he said, more fevered than he meant to be, but his thoughts were racing and the room was too loud for him to hear himself think. His panic was rising and he wanted to run, to leave behind the sound and find his friend.

“Where is she?” the Nightingale asked, her blues eyes intense as she waved over one of the Inquisition soldiers planted nearby. Cole could hear that she was already thinking about what needed to be done, already planning how many people to send to Varric and what to do about Autumn. Her cool calculation was like a balm as it washed through Cole's head, but it wasn't enough to temper his fear.

“South in the dark, where the trap was set long before the night began. I have to go!” he repeated again. He knew he was being confusing for her, he knew that he often sounded confusing to his friends, but he didn't have time to make her understand. “Send the help to Varric.” Cole said with finality before he turned and disappeared around the corner, slipping through the spaces between as he tried to find Autumn again before it was too late.

***

“Where the fuck is the southern courtyard?” Dorian snarled as they stalked through the halls. Solas ignored him, his eyes searching for any sign that might point them in the right direction. The palace was not meant to be navigated by people unfamiliar with it, so there was very little to go on. It was a maze of quiet hallways that seemed to lead back to one another, the dark shadows cast from the night making the colors murky, and any distinguishing features they might have used to find their way seem indistinct and confusing.

He closed his eyes, trying to cast out his magic and sense her, if he could. Sometimes it felt like he could feel her when she was away, her life beating under his skin like a second pulse, a comforting reminder that she was okay. Perhaps tonight he could tap into that and use it to track her down. If he could just concentrate, think about the way the air felt anytime she entered a room, the way the world shifted when her voice reached his ears, the way everything felt complete as long as she was in his sight.

“This way! I think I heard something!” Bull cried, shattering his thoughts. Solas gave up trying to concentrate and followed him as he raced down another hallway, Dorian quick on their heels.

His heart felt like a leaden ball ramming against his ribs, his throat was dry as though the fearful anger boiling within him had dried him out, twisting him around like a cloth so everything besides the need to find her dripped out of him onto the carefully maintained Orlesian carpets. He was furious that she had somehow slipped out of the ballroom, furious that she had gotten herself in danger again even with the watchful eyes of all the Inquisition's advisors trained on her. He was furious that he had ever left her side tonight.

He would protect her this time. He would find her and keep her from harm if he had to start tearing down the walls of the Winter Palace to do it.

*******

Autumn found the door and turned the key in the lock, trying to make as little sound as possible as she opened it and peered into the shifting shadows of the night. The courtyard beyond was littered with various pieces of construction equipment, wooden beams and tools laying about the evidence of the remodeling that was apparently being done, creating eerie shapes in the darkness. Her heartbeat stuttered when she realized it was all bathed in a hauntingly familiar green glow that could only mean one thing.

She risked opening the door all the way and stepped out into the open space, her heels sinking partially into the grass as she approached the rift. Energy from the fade was leaking out and swirling above her head, tinging the world in that ghastly aura that distorted ordinary objects into menacing mirrors of the normal world. She glanced around, not seeing any demons yet, and wondered how long the rift had been opened, and how Gaspard had managed to open it. She started to lift her hand, magic already crackling in her palm in reaction to the proximity of the tear.

“Welcome, Herald of Andraste.” a cold voice said behind her, and Autumn froze, back straightening as her muscles pulled taught. “So glad you made it. I was beginning to think our dear Duchess wasn't going to be able to lure you away.”

Autumn turned around slowly, facing the speaker as her stomach seemed to fill with ice, the realization that Florianne had played her leaving a chill within her that rivaled the cold of the wind off the Frostbacks. The man who had spoken was dressed in an outrageous jester costume, a smug grin plastered on his face, incredibly unnerving under the makeup that he wore, making his mouth appear grotesquely large. He was backed up by a row of Venatori archers, all of them with bows trained on her, strings pulled back and ready to fire. The arrow tips glittered in the green light, a shimmering row of lights held steady as though connected to one another, deadly stars that would sink into her flesh with the release of the fingers wrapped around their shafts.

“Of course it was a trap.” Autumn muttered, berating herself for being so stupid. She should have trusted her instincts about Florianne, should have known that it was all part of the game. Instead she had believed every word that bitch had said, playing right into her hands with her willingness to believe Gaspard worked alone. It was so easy to believe Gaspard the villain, would have been so much simpler. _Too_ simple. Nothing in Orlais was simple, and she knew that, knew better than to trust the man's _sister,_ for Andraste's sake. Josephine, Vivienne, and Leliana had all drilled her for weeks to be cautious, to not trust anyone outside of their own team while she was here. It was a whole new level of stupidity that she had listened to Florianne and acted on it without consulting a single person who might have given her the counsel to avoid this pitfall. Now her impatience was going to have a cost, dire consequences that she couldn't avoid.

“My lady, I apologize but I'm afraid we'll have to cut your evening short. Our master has grown tired of your meddling, and we simply cannot allow it to continue.” the jester sneered, his eyes reflecting the light of the rift and dancing with malignant mirth.

She was trapped. She could reach for her daggers, but she would be shot dead before she could do anything with them. She could dive out of the way, but in all likelihood at least one of the arrows targeting her would find its mark, unless the archers were completely incompetent, which judging by the steadiness in their arms would be a poor bet to make. She could try to run backwards, jump into the rift, but it was too high to be a real option, and she wasn't keen on the idea of getting back into the fade, even if it would save her life. The jester raised his arm, meeting her eyes, and she knew that he was aware he had her. She had blundered into her own death and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

He brought his hand down, signaling the archers to fire, and Autumn closed her eyes as the twang of the bowstrings rang in her ears. She closed her eyes and held her breath, and waited for the end to come.

 


	66. Foolish, Foolish Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Autumn is saved in the nick of time.

Autumn opened her eyes after a moment when she realized no arrows had run her through. For a brief span of time everything seemed to move in slow motion, all of the events unfolding before her eyes in a strange crystal clarity. The arrows that had been fired lay uselessly at her feet, a shimmering magic barrier cast so close to her face that she felt it tingling on the tip of her nose, and she didn't want to focus on how close of a call it must have been for the spell to be practically _on_ her. Solas stood in the open doorway, his face a mask of insolent fury as he held his staff aloft. Dorian and Bull were behind him, glaring at the Venatori agents. The archers were looking at her in shock, as though convinced she had survived by sheer force of will, while the jester had turned his head to notice the new arrivals with disdain, his hands moving to the blades at his belt.

Then the rift behind her exploded, several demons rushing out to meet them, and time resumed its normal fleeting pace. Autumn was knocked forward, stumbling awkwardly as she managed to stay on her feet, the shriek of a despair demon rattling her bones as she turned to face them. She grabbed the daggers from under her sash and held them up, kicking off her useless heels and preparing for battle. It was unintentionally satisfying when one of the errant shoes smashed into the despair demon's head, knocking it askew and sending ice scattering through the air like confetti. She grinned, relaxing into her battle stance eagerly, giddy at the prospect of finally taking out some of her aggression.

The despair demon recovered and screamed at her, its spindly arms pushing forward as it flung sharp shards of ice towards her. Autumn ducked the projectiles easily and rushed forward, jumping into the air with all her weight and bringing her arms out in a spin, blades whistling through the air before they came in contact with the demon's flesh, her gown flaring out from her legs and sending the silk fluttering. She stuttered to a halt after a few revolutions, shredding the demon's middle as it took the full brunt of the attack. It let out another earsplitting cry before it fell to the ground, a pile of ichor oozing out of it before it bubbled and disappeared. Autumn didn't spare much attention to it, as she was already turning to face the next foe. A terror demon was lurching towards her, jagged limbs moving haltingly as it opened its long mouth in a call of rage. Suddenly it sank in to the ground, disappearing. Autumn spun, familiar with the tactic, and faced the creature as it re-emerged behind her, arm swinging in an attempt to strike her with its lanky claws. She twisted to the side, dancing around the limb and flinging herself into the demon, thrusting her blades upwards into its chest as she made contact. It shuddered against the blow, stumbling backwards and falling onto a knee. She yanked the blades back out, mindful to tear them away from her and avoid the spray of ichor, and it collapsed forward, its innards sliding across the ground in an oozing mass. She grimaced and turned again.

It was disappointing that her companions had managed to dispatch everyone else, ending the battle. She held up her arm without delay, connecting with the rift and feeling the familiar aching burn as the mark worked its magic. She felt the edges of her palm sizzle as she focused, and when she felt her moment she yanked back, sealing the rift and severing her connection to it. She shook her hand out as her friends rushed over to her, the motion working out the worst of the lingering pain.

Solas practically ran her over, barely halting his momentum as he placed his hands on the side of her face, gripping her as though afraid she wasn't real. His eyes meeting hers were full of fear and reprimand. “Are you alright?” he gasped, out of breath from the battle.

She gave him a cheeky smile before she pulled him into a brief hug. He dropped his hands and returned the gesture before she let him go, her face split in a grin that she couldn't suppress. “I'm fine!”

Solas was smiling at her, but there was heat behind his normally calm eyes. “You are a foolish, foolish woman, Lethallan. _Why_ would you do this on your own?”

“I...well, because I'm an idiot.” she shrugged, unable to provide any real answers. It was true, she was a fool for the entire thing. It was only thanks to her _very_ timely friends that she was even still standing here, sans arrow wounds.

“Stop grinning like that! Do you know how _close_ that was? Do you have _any_ idea...I just...you....ugh! Insufferable woman!” Dorian shouted angrily, his hands balled into fists. He stomped his foot when his words seemed to fail him. “If you don't stop running off on your own like that, I'll kill you myself.” He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her.

She rushed over and pulled him into a fierce hug. He wrapped his arms around her involuntarily. “I'm sorry, you're right, of course. I'll try not to be so foolhardy next time.” She could feel his anger soften at her apology. She opted not to tell him how adorable he looked when he was angry. She was sure Bull would bring it up later in jest, anyhow.

“I'm glad we have that cleared up. Now, shouldn't we be getting back to warn, you know, the _rest_ of the ball about this evenings villains?” Bull drawled, leaning casually against his axe.

Autumn released Dorian and stood back, straightening her surprisingly spotless gown. How she had managed to keep it intact was a mystery, but she was thankful. It would make her re-entry into the ball all the more impressive. “Florianne is the mastermind, I'm pretty sure Gaspard is just her second fiddle. They're both working with the Venatori.”

“We _know_. We found that out with the mess in the royal quarters. Also, a naked man.” Dorian quipped. She raised her eyebrow at him, wondering what exactly had happened tonight. She opened her mouth to ask, but Bull spoke before she could manage.

“Oh, here, you should see this. We found an elven locket in Celene's bedroom. Apparently she used to be lovers with Briala, we think this might be handy later if you talk to them again.” Bull pulled the locket out of his pocket and handed it to Autumn. She looked at it momentarily before she tucked it in the folds of her sash, her mind whirling with the bits of partial information.

She nearly had the breath knocked out of her when gangly arms wrapped around her tightly, a cry of relief muffled by her dress as a figure threw itself against her after appearing out of thin air. She looked down and took in the familiar head of straw colored hair, patting Cole's back lightly. He looked up at her adoringly. “I was too late, but it was okay!” he said. She felt tears prick the corners of her eyes as she swallowed back the emotion his reaction brought out.

“Yes, Cole. I'm okay.”

He let go of her and stood up, his expression looking pained in an instant. “We have to hurry, Cullen might not be safe. The woman, the one with all the darkness inside, she's close to him.”

“Let's go.” Autumn said, deciding it would be better to hurry rather than try to pry the meaning of whatever Cole had just said out of him. Trying to figure out which person in Orlais was the ‘dark one’ would be like finding a grain of sand at the bottom of the ocean. “Bull, fill me in on the details while we go.”

“You got it boss.” he gave her a mock salute as she returned the daggers that she had used to Cole.

Bull explained everything that had happened that night as they set a brisk pace back to the ballroom. Autumn found that with every new detail her mood darkened, and she was very much ready to teach the de Chalons a lesson as soon as they returned.

 


	67. She was Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Florianne is the worst.

She never thought that she would be relieved to see the ballroom still filled with nobles, but when she finally made their way back, minus her entourage, which had to change into clean uniforms, and she was greeted with the exact same scene that she had left behind she let out a small sigh of relief. If everyone was still obliviously dancing the night away, nothing terrible could have happened yet. They still had time.

It took only moments before Leliana and Josephine spotted her and were hurrying over through the crowd. Autumn made her own way forward and met them near the top of the stairway at the entrance to the ballroom.

“Where were you?” Josephine demanded, a stern expression on her lovely features.

“I'll explain later but we need to get our people in here _now._ Both Florianne and Gaspard are working with the Venatori, and they were behind all the chaos tonight.”

“Oh no.” Josephine paled visibly, her eyes widening in horror as she glanced towards the dance floor.

“What's wrong?” Autumn asked and turned her head to follow the diplomat's gaze.

She felt her heart stutter as she took in the sight of Florianne snaking her arm around Cullen, dancing smoothly across the room. The woman wore a smirk that filled Autumn with a blind, seething rage, so consuming that she nearly collapsed under the weight of it. Her hand shot out to grasp at the banister for support as she started trembling, overwhelmed. The pair turned, Florianne being spun to face the other direction, and Autumn locked eyes with her over Cullen's shoulder. She frowned, taking in the fact that Autumn was there and very much alive with a quiet disappointment. She had sent Autumn to her death and asked Cullen to dance, her hopes set on a symbolic and literal victory over her foe. The sheer level of loathing sweeping through Autumn was enormous, and she grit her teeth against the snarl that wanted to escape her lips, against the tide of vitriol that she wanted to fling at the Duchess. Florianne regarded her evenly, her features contorting in obvious displeasure as she no doubt calculated her next move. For a moment Autumn thought it would end with that as the music halted, that the woman would slink away to seek her escape, nursing her failure with the same dispassionate frown that she wore beneath her mask right now. Autumn would pursue her and apprehend her, the danger would be past with her and Gaspard in chains. Florianne, however, had other ideas.

Her scowl morphed into a wicked grin, her teeth showing in something akin to a giddy snarl. Cullen moved to step away from her, the dance concluded, but Florianne grabbed the collar of his jacket and pulled him forward, smashing her lips into his while dragging her body across him. She spun them as she did the motion so Autumn got a good look at the entire display, her painted lips working his mouth open as he stared at her in shock. It was only a moment before he shoved her away, wiping at his mouth angrily, but it was long enough to burn into Autumn's memory and set her blood on fire.

The nobles had seen the display and it took only a fraction of a second for them to catch onto the gravity of the situation. The room fell silent as Autumn stalked down the steps, her bare feet slapping against the marble with enough force that it hurt her heels, but she didn't care. She could feel her face flush as she tried to control herself, feel her teeth scraping against her tongue as she bit back her scream of rage. She heard Josephine let out a strangled gasp behind her, but she no longer cared about that either. She was done with it. All of it. She was done with Orlais and its fucking games, done with these women and their pawing hands, done with all the false smiles and insincere compliments. She was done wearing her mask of perfection, done catering to these fools who could exist in ignorance to the fact that the world was falling apart around them. Most of all she was done pretending that she was available, done allowing people to hope that she or Cullen could be swept away in some marriage contract to bolster some asshole's status. She was completely through with dancing to the music of a thousand judging eyes, finished playing the game for the benefit of this spoiled empire. She stomped her way down the stairs and knew that enough was enough, it was time to settle this score once and for all. She. Was. Done.

*******

Cullen resisted the urge to spit as he glared at the Duchess, angry remarks dancing at the tip of his violated tongue. His chest was swelling with panic, threatening to overtake his mind, insisting that he drive away the foul demons that had found him once more. It tore at the edge of his sanity, but he brought himself back into the moment, brought his focus back onto the vile woman before him. He caught the woman's odd expression of triumph, and was confounded when he noticed that she wasn't even looking at him. He turned and his stomach felt like it dropped several feet when he saw Autumn, a paragon of impotent fury, stalking down the steps. Her eyes were locked on Florianne, the green pools darkened with wrath as she glared at the woman, every muscle in her body shaking, vibrating with rage. Cullen was speechless, rooted to the spot and unable to move as she bore down on them, unable to react in the face of the deadly menace flowing from her and permeating the room with every step.

Florianne opened her mouth to say something as Autumn arrived, but it she was silenced before she ever got a word out, Autumn's fist slamming into her jaw and sending the woman reeling. Autumn stood over her, barely containing herself, breath coming heavily through her nose as she glared down at Florianne. The Duchess turned back, clutching her face and spitting at Autumn's feet, a pink stain on the pale marble, before she inexplicably started grinning. For some reason completely unknown to Cullen, Florianne looked _pleased_ at what had just transpired.

“Florianne de Chalons. You've put on quite a performance this evening.” Autumn's voice rang out, strangely loud in the silent chamber. Even if it hadn't already been dead quiet, her voice carried with it such an authority that it would have killed the conversation, demanding all those present to heed her words, ordering their rapt attention. Every soul in the room was watching intently now, even Celene walking quietly to the edge of the platform to observe with cold interest as the spectacle played out.

Florianne's smile faltered, her triumph fading seamlessly into worry. “Your worship, I'm not sure what you mean.” she said after a time, when it became clear Autumn was waiting for her response. She made her voice sound meek and terrified, the helpless maiden cowering before the ruffian who had just punched her. Cullen thought for a moment he should intervene, but one look at Autumn and he decided his wisest option was to stay quiet. Something more than just jealousy was fueling her reaction, something pivotal transpiring between the two women standing off before him, and Cullen did not want to interfere with whatever Autumn had planned.

Autumn grinned maliciously, as though Florianne's reaction was exactly what she had wanted. “Oh, but I think you _do_. _You_ know how well you have performed this evening, but I think the rest of the court might appreciate the details. Shall I let you all in on the secret?” Autumn turned, facing the room, taking in the crowd with vicious glee. No one moved, no one responded, but all eyes remained trained on her, hundreds of unblinking stares drinking in the drama with greed. “My dear Florianne. Would you like to tell the court how you plotted my murder? How you gave me the key to the southern courtyard and begged me to go stop your brother, only to have your people try to kill me?” Florianne smirked, but it was an empty gesture, her eyes darting around the room nervously. “Or why don't we share with these fine people how you worked with Gaspard to sneak in mercenaries, intent on killing the empress and taking the throne for yourselves?” The crowd gasped, fearful murmurs rippling through the ranks of masked attendants. Cullen curled his hands into fists, anger welling up inside of him. If it was true, which he had no doubt that it was, then he had just danced with the enemy and not even known. The image of demons clawing away at his mind didn’t seem so unrealistic anymore.

“A very imaginative tale, I will give you that, Inquisitor. But surely you don't expect the court to believe such nonsense.” Florianne sounded less than convinced. She looked around the room fearfully, finding no sympathy from the crowd.

“I believe, dear cousin, we will let a judge decide that matter.” Celene said coolly. Florianne spun around, her eyes widening in horror.

“No.” her low voice carried in the silence, a quiet refusal that should have been impossible to hear, but somehow managed to echo against the stillness that surrounded them. Cullen watched her shoulders stiffen and her hands tighten into fists. “ _No_.” she said, more firmly, and then in a motion faster than he would have thought possible she leaped to the side, reaching down and pulling long blades from her legs as she did. She slid against the tiles for only a moment before she was shooting forward again, weapons aimed at Autumn in a deadly attack.

Cullen was shoved roughly out of the way as Autumn reacted, her hand making contact with his chest just long enough to send him falling backwards before she was bracing herself. She moved enough to keep the wicked knives from cutting into her and grabbed at Florianne's right wrist, yanking up while the woman's attack carried her in a downward motion. Florianne cried out in rage and pain, her fingers losing grip on her weapon before she managed to snatch her arm away, the dagger clattering to the ground as the people around them screamed over the commotion. She righted herself and spun to face Autumn, who now wielded the dropped dagger, crouched and waiting for an opening of her own. Florianne growled, a feral sound that tore from her throat violently.

“Stupid bitch. You may have ruined my plans, but you've crossed the Elder One for the last time!” she screamed and dove at Autumn again, slashing at her legs in the hopes of catching her off balance. Instead of dodging to the side and dancing out of the way, Autumn jumped straight up, leaping over the attack and using Florianne as a stepping stone, launching into the air and over the danger, landing unharmed some distance away while Florianne was driven into the ground, her chin smacking against the marble with an audible crack as bones or teeth snapped on impact. A miserable moan rumbled from her as she crawled further away, struggling to gain distance as she righted herself.

Cullen's attention was drawn to a scuffle on the other side of the room, several shrieking women falling away from something. Autumn and Florianne seemed not to notice, their eyes remaining locked on each other as Florianne ungracefully got to her feet. Cullen couldn't get a clear view of what exactly was happening over there, and he was loathe to take his eyes off the fight before him, but from what he could tell someone had just been downed with arrows, an elven woman in a silver mask running through the crowd with her bow in hand as she pursued a fleeing target. They disappeared from view and he hoped that whatever was happening was being handled by someone on their team.

He scrambled back to his own feet before he turned back, Florianne warily glaring at Autumn. A dark purple bruise was already coloring the bottom half of her face, and her lip had been split, likely damaged by her own teeth. She spat blood again, wiping at her mouth and wincing while her feet shifted in slow steps, sizing up her opponent while they both waited for another weakness, another chance to strike. Cullen tensed, wondering if he could slip around and take Florianne out before she noticed, but Autumn seemed to read his mind.

“Stay put Rutherford. This is my fight.” she ordered, her tone imposing a sense of finality that he didn't dare argue with. He clenched his jaw, a part of him wanting to fight her on this, his instincts driving him to protect her from danger, but he forced himself to obey the command. Autumn was not a helpless girl playing at fighting. She was a highly trained, well seasoned warrior, who dealt death to her enemies on a regular basis, and he had to trust that she knew what she was doing. He would remain here at her side, available if she needed him, but he would not rob her of her agency by forcing himself into combat that she already had well in hand. He loved her dearly, but she was no damsel in distress, and needed no knight in shining armor to fight her battles for her.

Florianne let out a mirthless laugh. “Afraid I might damage your pretty toy, Inquisitor?”

Autumn's returning laugh was just as bitter. “I just don't want to be denied satisfaction, Duchess.”

They flew forward then, dresses trailing behind them as their blades ground together noisily. Sparks actually flew off the colliding metal before both of them jumped back, separating again for a moment that felt altogether too brief. Florianne dove forward again, and Autumn danced out of the way, and for a time Cullen lost all track of what exactly was happening, the fight before him a blur of blue silk and pale lace, of flashing metal blades crashing against each other before spinning away to swing somewhere else. Both of the women moved so fast that it was hard to follow their blows and feints, nearly impossible to track the course of the fight as they warred with one another. They seemed perfectly matched, two rogues locked in a deadly dance that might never end, their moves always countered, each step anticipated and denied before it could land any damage. It was clear when Florianne made her misstep, however, her heeled foot clicking against the marble before she wavered, the point not quite hitting at the angle she had intended. Autumn seized the opportunity, lunging into the opening where Florianne had flung out her arm for balance and driving the point of the knife into her side. The blade slid through the fabric of the ballgown easily, passing between her ribs and into the vital organs beneath. Florianne's scream turned into a strangled gasp as Autumn wrenched the blade deeper before she let go of the hilt, leaving it lodged in the other woman as she stepped away. Florianne sank to her knees, eyes wide and unbelieving, hands clutching weakly at the hilt of the weapon impaling her. For a moment she looked around in bewilderment, her blood staining her dress and coating her fingers as her wild eyes stared at nothing in particular, sliding over everything present, unseeing and unfocused. Then she fell forward onto her face, her body still but for the crimson liquid pooling beneath her.

Autumn turned to Cullen and for a moment he thought she might threaten him, but the look in her eyes was not one of anger but determination. She stalked forward, her gaze locking him in place, and before Cullen knew how to react she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss that made him feel as though fireworks were exploding in his chest. His hands found their way around her waist, clasping her back and crushing her into him as his lips were moved by hers, willingly caressing her soft tongue as her taste and smell flooded his senses. Her fingers curled into his hair and she let out a soft sigh against him, pulling him down deeper into her arms as she arched her back, forcing him to dip her and hold her up. When he came up for air and met her eyes he was surprised to see her looking relieved, like the weight of the world had just been lifted off her shoulders.

She smiled as they stood straight again, wrapping her arm gently around his before guiding them off of the dance floor. The crowd of onlookers parted for them as they made their way to Josephine and Leliana, and not a word was exchanged between them. Slowly the other people in the room returned to conversing amongst themselves, and the volume grew as their discussions reflected the exciting topic of the events they had just witnessed.

Cullen smiled down at Autumn, shaking his head slightly. “Are you okay?”

“Not even remotely, but we can address that soon enough.” her tone was strained but her smile was genuine. He shook his head again, words failing him. Bending over he planted a light kiss on the top of her head, hoping that would convey his affection and understanding in a way speech simply couldn't at the moment.

The night had certainly taken an interesting turn.

 


	68. Perhaps it was Fate. And Perhaps That Isn't so Bad, After All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone is sad they missed the fight and Autumn finally gets that dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, Over 200 Kudos now. I LOVE ALL OF YOU THANK YOU FOR LIKING MY GARBAGE FIC and thank you for all the wonderful comments. I really can't stress how much I appreciate all of it. 
> 
> YOU ARE THE WIND BENEATH MY WINGS.

As she left the dance floor and the open stares of the crowd returned to the more covert glances that she was used to, Autumn felt a strange mix of exhaustion and elation. Her mind was spent, wanting nothing more than to crawl into a bed somewhere with a steaming mug of tea and a good book, but her body seemed flooded with a nervous energy that made the idea of resting seem foreign. Her muscles were strained, overworked from the endless string of tense situations, but she felt like she should run laps around the palace or scale the walls or _something_ to expel her excess excitement.

“Well...that was...certainly something the court won't be forgetting anytime soon.” Josephine said as they arrived. She still seemed to be in shock, but her amusement shone through as she gave them a gracious smile.

“Sorry Josie, I just...I did my best.” she lifted her hands before letting them fall back to her side, feeling slightly bashful over her performance. She didn't regret it, it certainly had to be done, but it _was_ rather brazen. She could only imagine how close to a heart attack their poor diplomat must have been.

“Don't apologize! That was fantastic. I haven't been this entertained since Melody announced _herself_ the future Queen of Ferelden at the landsmeet.” Leliana quipped. She was sipping at a glass of champagne and looking monumentally pleased with the turn of events.

Cullen snorted. “Yes, because _entertainment_ was our primary priority.” he gave her a bitter smile.

“Hush, don't spoil my fun. We accomplished what we came here to do.” she waved her delicate hand at the commander, airily brushing off his concerns.

“Where's Gaspard?” Autumn asked her, realizing that she hadn't spotted him since before her rather loud interruption of the festivities.

“He tried to make a run for it while everyone was watching you. Ambassador Briala went after him, and it seems he has met his end at her hand. Or her arrows, rather.” Josephine told her.

“I hope it wasn't quick.” Cullen added darkly. Autumn laced her fingers through his, giving him a reassuring squeeze. She couldn't say she was broken up over the Duke's death, however. The man was a scoundrel and probably _did_ deserve whatever he got from the elven ambassador. She would have to make sure to find the elf and thank her before they left Halamshiral.

“Inquisitor. Might I borrow a moment of your time?” Celene's quiet voice interrupted their exchange, and they turned to find her standing regally behind them. She gave Autumn a genuine smile, her eyes shining brightly beneath her mask.

“Of course, your grace.” Autumn let go of Cullen's arm and followed Celene out to her private balcony.

A steady breeze had picked up, the night air stirring at a gentle but constant rate as the moon hung low against the horizon. Autumn took a deep breath, the fresh air feeling amazing against her skin, softly rustling her dress and hair so that for a moment she felt like she was made of movement, one with the swirling air as it soared away without a care in the world. She smiled, a small, sad lift of her lips that betrayed the conflicting tumult of relief and regret churning within her. It was done, the Venatori had been defeated, but so many things had seemed to go wrong in the process that it didn't feel like a victory. All of those people chatting about the murder of two of their own like it was marvelous entertainment seemed to sully any pride that she might have had for her conquest.

“Orlais is a complicated place, Inquisitor. I hope the events in this evening’s session of the great Game did not sour your opinion of us for good.” Celene said softly, aware of her guest's thoughts. Her face was pensive as she looked on, a melancholy there that made Autumn ache on her behalf.

She gave the empress another small smile. “Perhaps I will visit again, when things are not so...precarious.”

Celene laughed delicately and turned away, leaning against the balcony in an uncharacteristically relaxed pose. She stared out at the courtyard below, and beyond to the sleeping city that stretched out around the edges of the Winter Palace. “I owe you an apology, Inquisitor.” Autumn lifted an eyebrow but did not speak, crossing her arms as she waited for the empress to elaborate. “I did not think things would get quite so dangerous for you tonight. Had I known, I might have told you that I had chosen _you_ to play the role of my umbrella.” her pale lips quirked in amusement, and Autumn laughed as she recalled their earlier conversation.

“Your Majesty, I thought I was the storm.”

“Perhaps you were both. In any case, I'm sorry I could not reach out to you sooner. I hope it has not caused you any undue harm.” Celene regarded her with such an open expression of regret that Autumn couldn't bring herself to hold it against her. She alone could not be held responsible for the culture of her people, and indeed in her time as ruler she seemed to be working to change the way her empire behaved. Celene was, at her core, a good person trying to do her best against an endless tide of people too stupid or too prejudiced to know a better way of life when they saw it.

“No lasting harm, your grace.”

“That is good to hear then. You have my gratitude for what you have done here. You have saved my life, and by extension my empire. Your Inquisition will have the full support of Orlais behind it, to face whatever may come next.” she placed her slender hand on Autumn's shoulder, squeezing lightly. “In addition, if there is anything you would ask of me, name it. If it is within my power, I would happily grant it to you.”

Autumn thought about the events of the evening, about everything that had transpired. She thought about all of the people in there that had been spared any harm because of the Inquisition's action, and how glad she was that they would never know how close they had come to disaster, even if they didn't deserve such peace. Then she thought about all the people that _hadn’t_ escaped harm that evening. About all of the nameless servants who would be cleaned out of what had once been their home, burned and forgotten as new elves took their place. She thought about Briala, and the help she provided to her people, and about the rumors of her and Celene. Reaching into her sash, she drew out the locket, clutching it in her fist as she realized that she knew exactly what favor she would ask of the empress.

She held out the simple piece of jewelry, and Celene took it, her brow furrowing as she looked at the tarnished metal. A small gasp of recognition escaped her lips and she looked back, wide eyed. “Briala helped save your empire tonight just as much as I did. I don't know what was between you, but it obviously meant something to you if you held onto something like that after all this time.” Autumn looked up to the sky, taking a deep breath. “You probably know as much as I do that the world has a problem with enforcing unfair opinions against anyone seen as different. If you want to grant me a boon, I would ask that you work to reverse these ways of thinking, as forcefully as you think you can.” she looked back and met Celene's eyes, which were brimming with moisture and emotion. “Treat Briala with the respect she deserves. Treat her people with the respect they deserve. Maybe if we all work together, we can start changing things, healing the wounds that are older than any of us can remember.”

Celene held the locket close to her chest, nodding slowly. “This I can do. This I should have already done. I let fear guide my actions too many times in the past, Inquisitor. Perhaps together we can finally start to make the world see a better way.” she took the locket and undid the clasp, wrapping it around her neck with tremulous hands. “I will make Briala nobility. That is the station that she should have always had, and the respect that she deserves. It will be a big step for my people to accept, but after tonight I think you've proven sometimes being bold is, indeed, the best option.” her smile was fervent and honest. Autumn found herself laughing easily at the jest, a comfort between the two of them that she would never have expected.

“Shall we return to our adoring fans?” she asked her, bowing low to indicate the empress lead the way.

“Of course. I believe you owe your Commander a dance, after everything he's been through.”

They laughed together as they re-entered the ballroom, and Autumn felt like the weight on her heart had been lifted just a little. Perhaps Orlais wasn't as doomed as it had seemed after all.

***

“We missed _everything cool!_ ” Bull grumbled, sulking as Leliana recounted their leader's battle to the starry eyed troop that had returned from changing into fit clothing.

“I must admit, it sounds like quite the show.” Dorian nodded, somehow managing to look crestfallen and dignified at the same time. Cullen rolled his eyes at the group, although he would probably feel just as robbed had he not been there to see the duel for himself.

“Well, go enjoy the rest of the ball. The work is done for the evening so you all officially have the rest of the night off.” Josephine announced, using her hands to make a shooing gesture to drive them all out. Sera immediately bounced away, giggling in a way that let them all know something terrible was likely to happen to someone before she found her way to bed. For a moment Josephine looked like she was going to protest, but with a shake of her head she stalked off in the other direction to join her sister at a small table against the wall.

“I'm going to bed then. This has been a far bigger ordeal than I would have liked.” Cassandra snapped, her face drawn in the same scowl that she had been wearing all evening.

“Awe, come on Seeker. Live a little. Follow me, I'll introduce you to the ladies who apparently formed a fan club for _Swords and Shields_.” Varric gave her a winning smile, doing his best to look inviting.

Cassandra turned and started walking away, waving off the invitation.“Why would I want to meet a bunch of bored _Orlesian_ women who have nothing better to do than-”

“Alright, but they have very interesting theories about whether or not the Guard captain and the Templar are in a secret relationship on the side.” Varric smirked as Cassandra stopped mid stride, turning to face him with her eyebrows raised.

“I had not even considered them a pair...very well, Varric. Perhaps some light conversation would not be so terrible.” she gave him a reluctant but earnest smile as he led her away. Cullen couldn't help but exchange glances with the others, who were already snickering at the unlikely pair.

Autumn caught his eye the moment she walked back into the ballroom, strolling companionably with the empress as they laughed about some joke between them. It was good to see a true smile on her face rather than the strained, ghastly thing that had been plastered there all evening. She looked far more like herself again, the impish woman Cullen had fallen so deeply in love with. It was moments like this that Cullen lived for, moments where her guard was lifted and she let her true nature shine through, let out the joy and light that she had in her heart out for a select few in the world to see. She carried far too much responsibility on her shoulders, responsibility none of them could take away from her even if they wanted to, but in those rare moments where the burden didn't seem so great and she relaxed just enough to be herself, she was the most beautiful, precious gift the world could ever be granted.

Celene caught him watching them and bowed her head politely in his direction. He returned the gesture as she gave Autumn a gentle push towards him. The smile on his love's face as she returned to him was brilliant, unabashedly bathing him in adoration that he could never have done enough to deserve. He mirrored it with his own, his heart full of so many wonderful feelings that he might burst into a thousand points of light that would surpass the candlelight and shine down on her alone, so that she might know exactly how much he cherished her.

“Commander.” she gave him a quick curtsy, dipping her head so that her curls dangled over half of her face.

“My lady.” he bowed low, matching her mock formality. “May I have this dance?” he held his hand out to her.

She took it, her smile broadening. “I thought you'd never ask.”

He led her out onto the dance floor, wrapping his arm around her as he twined the fingers of their hands together. He dipped his head and planted a quick, soft kiss against her lips, her breath ghosting over his face as she sighed. “I was afraid for you tonight.” he murmured, resting his chin on top of her head as they swayed to the music.

“Mm. No need apparently.” she hummed, her cheek nestled against his chest. “I'm beginning to think I might be immortal.” she laughed softly, although her tone was slightly bitter.

“I would ask you not test that theory.” he spun them, matching the tempo of the music as it swelled momentarily.

“Oh don't worry, I don't intend to.” she looked up at him, her eyes bright with mischief. “Although I'm pretty sure Corypheus might have other plans.”

It was both a jest and a heavy truth, but Cullen had no wish to let the danger looming in their future intercede on their momentary peace. “Perhaps I should let him kiss me. It seems that's an impressive motivator for your success.” She tilted her head back and laughed before stomping on his foot in an attempt to chastise him, a useless reprimand as she was apparently not wearing any shoes, the flat of her foot padding harmlessly against his dress boots. “Where in the void are your shoes?” he couldn't help but chuckle.

She shrugged nonchalantly. “You can't fight demons in heels, Cullen.”

“Vivienne does all the time.” he retorted, pulling her close again during another spin.

“ _Vivienne_ has weaponized calves. She's also a mage, and doesn't do as many acrobatics as I do.” she sniffed haughtily, miffed at the jibe.

He laughed easily at her reaction. “Clearly whatever you're doing is working, love. I shouldn't question your methods.”

“Can I ask you something?” she said after a beat, following his lead as he spun her before leaning into a dip.

“Is it your turn?” he smirked at her.

She giggled as he swung her upright once more, wrapping around her tightly again. “I haven't the foggiest.”

“Hm. I suppose I don't either. Very well, ask your question, my lady.”

“What do you want to do after all this is over?”

“I'm pretty sure you've asked me that question before.” he smirked again as she rolled her eyes.

“Yes, and I'm pretty sure your answer was firmly in the 'I don't know' category.”

“I suppose I could stand to be more specific.” he chuckled while she scowled at him, waiting for him to stop teasing her. He spun her around again, lifting her off her feet and letting the fabric of her dress balloon with the motion. He waited until he set her back down before speaking again. “Well, I don't think we'll ever actually escape the Inquisition entirely. You've built a remarkable organization that will probably play a pivotal role in the dealings of Thedas for many years to come. I'm not sure I would want to escape, either. Being a part of this means being a part of something working to set the world right, and it’s a cause I believe in devoutly.” He paused, giving her a genial smile as he took a moment to admire her pretty face, features softened even further than normal in the warm light. “But I think a nice vacation would be in order. Perhaps we could find a nice spot somewhere in Ferelden and hide away together for awhile. Whatever comes, I know we'll decide together.”

She sighed and leaned her cheek against his chest again. “That sounds wonderful. I wish...sometimes I wish I could just hand off the Inquisition after everything settles, but I'm pretty sure none of you would let me get away with it.”

“You would be correct. I know you never asked for this, but I happen to think you were born for it. No one else could have done the things you have, and you can be sure that it has nothing to do with the mark. I can't say for certain if the Maker chose you for this purpose, but I also can't argue that it seems being Inquisitor was your destiny.”

“I don't mind it as much as I used to. I got to meet you, and the rest of our friends, and I couldn't possibly imagine a life without any of you now. Perhaps it was fate. And perhaps that isn't so bad, after all.”

The song ended and they stopped their slow dance, still holding close to one another and taking a moment to just breathe together. She looked up at him, and it was nice to see that she looked relaxed, the tension gone from her shoulders and an easy smile spread across her lips. He leaned down and kissed her, letting his tongue slowly explore how she tasted while the world continued on around them. It felt amazing, to have her in his arms in front of everyone, to declare his love for her in the simplest way and leave no doubts in anyone's minds, the rumors no longer just rumors. It didn't matter if anyone objected, and he couldn't care less if their moment of delight would cause a scandal.

“You are the greatest thing that's ever happened to me.” he uttered into their kiss. He felt her smile before she pulled back, glowing with her fondness for him, a warmth he could feel passing through her and straight into his heart, repairing all the damage done to him over the long, haunted years of his life. She made him whole, made him stronger, braver, made him see so much more worth in the world, just because he knew she was a part of it.

“I love you too.” she replied.

When the music started up again neither of them wanted to leave the dance floor, neither of them wanted to move out of the tender embrace, so they swayed gently to the song and quietly appreciated this moment of happiness they could share, however fleeting it might be.

***

Dorian watched Bull dance with a flustered noblewoman enviously. He would never admit it was envy, not even to himself, but seeing the vapid woman with Bull's hands on her waist made Dorian's insides squirm. He downed his wine and walked out of the ballroom, entering a pleasantly empty hallway and leaning against a large marble statue. It had been a long night, fighting cultists and avoiding the ire of a thousand rich assholes who hated his country and therefore hated him.

Dorian had been proud of the way their honest, brash Inquisitor had wound the court around her little finger, getting every egotistical moron draped in finery there eating out of the palm of her hand. She had even expertly convinced a room full of shocked people of the Duchess' involvement with the Venatori, then given them the show of a lifetime as she took revenge for the woman's handling of Cullen. She would go down in history for her mastery of the Game, and subsequent shattering of it, her breaking point just as impressive as her poise during the earlier parts of the night. No doubt they were all equally in love with the fact that after the display of such raw power she had returned to the pleasant, smiling woman half the room had danced with, albeit now she was on the arm of a particularly smug looking Commander and out of reach for the rest of them. Autumn had no idea, but Dorian knew she could charm the scales off a dragon if she put her mind to it.

Part of him wanted to dance and enjoy the party, to find someone friendly to chatter with about mundane things, but another part of him just wanted to dance with the most inappropriate person he could imagine, and he could not shake the sadness that realization brought. So here he was, reduced to lurking in the shadows during a party, sulking like a spurned servant. He should be out there having the time of his life, celebrating his best friend’s conquests, but he just couldn't manage to keep the smile on his face long enough to try. What was becoming of him?

He'd been sitting with his eyes closed, completely lost in his own thoughts, so when a hand landed on his shoulder he jumped at least a foot in the air, nearly toppling a candle holder in the process.

“Andraste's sweet ass cheeks!” he found himself looking into the eye of a very amused Bull. The tall man bowed mockingly.

“My apologies, good sir. I did not mean to startle you.” his voice oozed sarcasm, and Dorian had to resist the urge to slap the audacious smile off his face.

“What kind of an animal lurks around in hallways in the middle of a party?” Dorian demanded, straightening his robe and trying his best to look dignified again despite the coloring he could feel spreading on his cheeks.

Bull arched an eyebrow at him and grinned, his chiseled face stretching with laugh lines. “Apparently _you_.” Dorian felt himself blush deeper, cursing himself internally for his own poor choice of words.

Clearing his throat, he crossed his arms and glared at Bull. “Well, I couldn't bear to watch you massacre dance moves any longer.” Crap. No, that wasn't what he meant to say, that was too close to the truth, too honest. He avoided meeting the Qunari's eyes, hoping against hope that the shrewd man could not see the fact lurking under the sarcasm, that he hadn't been able to watch Bull massacre dance moves with anyone _else_ any longer.

It appeared that he would have no such luck, however, as Bull did not fail to read between the lines. He gave Dorian a withering look. “If you wanted to dance, you should have asked.” his voice was warm, amused, everything it shouldn't be and everything Dorian couldn't handle right now.

Embarrassment was going to kill him. Right there, right then, he was going to spontaneously combust. He could not keep his composure any longer, and the only thing that he could think of was escape.

“I would never.” he snarled, horrified that his voice cracked. He stalked off further into the dark hallway. He didn't dare look back at Bull, could not stand to see his face, could not stand to know what effect those words had. He just needed out of there. _Immediately_. So he scampered off to lick his wounds, and damn his own pride for ruining a moment that he hated to admit he had very much wanted.

 


	69. I Believe I Have the Situation Well in Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I 100% did not plan this chapter to happen to be number 69, I swear.

_Inquisitor Trevelyan,_

_I hope this letter finds you well after your return trip to Skyhold._

_As promised, I am fully prepared to support the Inquisition in any and all ways that I can, so I have sent to you my Arcane Advisor, who believes she will be able to aid your cause. Take care of her, she has been a dear friend to me in her time in Orlais, and I would be lying if I said I was not sad to see her go. She should arrive within days of your receipt of this letter._

_Our army stands ready as well, for I fear you will have need of it before all this is over._

_Marquis Briala sends her warm regards._

_Respectfully,_

_Empress Celene Valmont_

_***_

Autumn was out of the carriage at the gates of Skyhold only long enough to stretch before she let out a surprised yelp as she was swept up in strong arms and tossed over Cullen's shoulder like some barbarian's hard won prize. She kicked her feet in the air, knees bumping against his chest as she cried out a wordless protest, fisting his shirt in her hands as she tried to find balance, something to cling to to keep her from tumbling to the ground, a foolish notion since she knew he would never actually drop her.

Her efforts earned her a playful slap on the ass. “Be quiet.” he ordered, and she could hear that damnable smirk in his tone making a delicious heat ripple through her body and pool in her loins, rendering her effectively speechless.

She giggled as he carried her through the courtyard and up the stairs, the eyes of their soldiers following them with curiosity and humor. Several pointed, letting out good-natured guffaws or giving Cullen a brazen thumbs up. He waved amiably to everyone he passed, and even returned the salutes a few dared to offer, grins plastered on their faces at the spectacle of their Commander hauling their leader around like an errant child. It sent a pair of female recruits into a helpless fit of giggles when Autumn saluted them from her undignified position as well, while Cullen whisked her away unaware of her actions. The nobles standing in the great hall tittered as they passed, women hiding envious blushes behind their fans and men looking on with shocked approval. By this point Autumn had given up squirming and merely accepted her fate, waving politely at their audience with a cheeky smile carved onto her face. She laughed breathlessly when Cullen kicked open the door leading to her quarters, slipping in before it swung shut behind them.

“You know, I am perfectly capable of navigating the way to my bedroom on my own.” she said, somewhat sardonically as he started making his way up the nearly endless flights of stairs.

“I believe I have the situation well in hand.” his chuckle rumbled against her delightfully.

She laughed, the sound being driven from her stomach forcefully as she bounced against his shoulder. “ _Indeed_.”

They reached the top, and Cullen once again made use of his boot to overcome the obstacle of her bedroom door. She reached her arm down and managed to slap his ass, her attempt at revenge for earlier, which led him to lift and toss her up in the air, sending her sailing onto the bed. She bounced there, laughing giddily for a moment before his lips were pressed against hers, a searing kiss stealing her breath and filling her with an aching need that set the nerves in her body aflame. His body thrust heavily against hers, driving her into the bed as his hands flew to the laces of her shirt, untying the knot in one deft pull and loosening the fabric. He grabbed the hem and released her lips only long enough to pull the garment over her head, tossing it across the room before crashing down against her again, tongue caressing her mouth open before sliding against her own, swallowing her moan when his hands traveled up and down her sides. His warm palms found their way to her breasts, kneading the sensitive flesh before taking a nipple under his thumb, stroking back and forth until its peak stiffened. She arched her back into the sensation, her hips bucking slightly with each small touch, and let out small gasp of pleasure.

He moved his head to the side and used his lips to draw a burning line down the side of her neck, sucking on her pulse momentarily before working his way across her collar bone. He reached her chest and wrapped his swollen lips around a nipple, grazing his teeth lightly over the tip as his stubble dragged against her skin. Her fingers found their way up the back of his neck, nestling into his hair and tugging gently as her body reacted to his touch. He groaned his appreciation of her, a heady sound rolling in the back of his throat and reverberating against her skin. He switched to her other side, his attentions making her whimper as the ache between her legs increased, a tingling wave that threatened to swallow her mind until she couldn't even remember who she was anymore. He smiled against her skin, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he looked up and met her eyes, kissing his way down her abdomen.

His eyes were dark, black pupils rimmed with golden amber as he painted a circle around her navel with his tongue. He hooked his thumbs under the waist of her trousers, watching her face intently as he slowly pulled them from place, drawing them down her legs inch by inch, grazing kisses increasingly lower on her hips as he did. He dragged the fabric over her feet and tossed it away heedlessly, eyes never leaving hers. Her breath caught in her throat when he leaned down, nudging her legs apart and lifting her knees over his shoulders. His breath danced against her sex, warm enough to set her heart aflutter as her legs started to tremble at his intent.

He brought his lips to her folds, delicately kissing a pattern up and down. She kept her eyes locked with his as she was consumed with torturous anticipation, hyper-focused on the expression of hunger on his face, his desire for her apparent in the reverent way he gazed up at her. His tongue slid into her, a slow drag from her base to the top where her delicate bundle of nerves begged for his care. He shut his eyes and groaned into her, overcome with veneration, and she lost sight of him as her head fell back, eyes closing as her own mewl of pleasure poured past her lips. He devoted himself to the task, tongue praising her core as his nose nudged against her nub, her inarticulate cries of adulation filling their ears and encouraging him onward. He worshiped her as she lost herself, carried away with the erratic beating of her pulse, her thoughts falling away like the trails of light behind a comet, burning bright and fading into an endless sky before she could comprehend what they were. When she came she shattered around him, thighs clamping around his ears as he lapped at her deliberately, his mouth working to prolong the explosion of sensations within her. She collapsed back onto the mattress, breath coming in shaking gasps that did nothing to steady her mind or clear her swimming vision.

He shifted, bringing himself back up to claim her lips once more, tasting of her and him and glorious sin that sent her reeling, her body reacting again even as it came down from its spent climax. She moaned his name, a prayer on her lips as he settled himself between her legs, dragging his erection over her with a solid control that he had no right to posses after undoing her so profoundly just moments ago. Her hips pressed upward, trying to draw him in, her muscles pulled tight as need gripped her once more, chest heaving with the effort to breathe around the lust that clouded her head. When he finally plunged in, sheathing himself to the hilt as her body rippled around him, she screamed and dug her fingers into his back, scrambling for purchase in a world that was spinning away from her by inches and miles at a time.

He held back absolutely nothing, rocking into her fervently as he chanted her name, moaning a litany of accolades for her that bordered on blasphemy. She was blinded with exultation as he burrowed into her over and over, her body cascading with pleasure as they moved together in perfect tandem. When his pace finally stuttered near the bounds of his limit, he thrust into her harder, driving both of them over that blissful edge so that their cries of release chased each other into the hot air of the bedroom, fading into the walls as though the stone and wood around them wanted to absorb the moment, to savor it for the rest of time. He collapsed against her, crushing her into the bed, but she didn't mind, didn't have the thought capacity to do anything more than breathe as her nerves recovered from the electrifying onslaught. He pressed feather light kisses against her throat, nuzzling against her with a heavy sigh.

Reluctantly he rolled away, settling in next to her and continuing his tender caresses as he pulled her close to him, wrapping her up possessively with arms that trembled from exhaustion.

“I am yours.” she told him, a sigh of contentment slipping out of her as her eyelids grew heavy.

He hummed, his approval vibrating against her back. “I love you.” he mumbled.

They drifted off into dreamless sleep, a tangle of damp limbs and matted hair, happy to be with one another, happy to be done with their long journey, and above all else happy to be home.

 


	70. For SCIENCE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which letters, and Varric is a scientist.

_Leliana,_

_I will arrive at Skyhold by the end of next week. It seems we are fated to work together yet again._

_We should set aside some time, once I have settled, to 'catch up', as it were. I am sure you know a great deal more about the whereabouts of our old companions than I, and I must admit I am curious to see what trouble they got into without Melody's guidance._

_Have you heard from her at all? I confess I worry, for only rumors and whispers have reached my ears, and none of them were particularly favorable._

_I miss her._

_I shall see you anon, my dear bard. I am very much eager to be there at last._

_Sincerely,_

_Morrigan_

_***_

_Seeker,_

_You promised to show me your story. Don't think you’re getting out of it by stomping around and looking angry at everyone all day. A bet's a bet._

_-Varric_

 

_Varric_

_I am aware of our arrangement. I do not need to be reminded. You will see it when it's ready._

_-Cassandra_

 

_Seeker,_

_I just wanted to get that in writing, really. Any idea when it might be ready? Just so you know, 'never' isn't an acceptable option._

_-Varric_

 

_Varric,_

_Leave me alone._

_-Cassandra_

 

_Varric,_

_If I catch you snooping around for the story again I will throw your ridiculous crossbow off the battlements. STAY OUT OF MY THINGS._

_-Cassandra_

 

_Seeker,_

_You leave Bianca out of this! What did she ever do to you?_

_You can't hide it forever. I WILL get what you promised me._

_-Varric_

 

_Varric,_

_I hate you. And your crossbow._

_-Cassandra_

 

_Seeker,_

_That really stings. Are you happy with yourself? You've made a dwarf and his weapon cry._

_-Varric_

 

_Seeker,_

_If you bring me what you have so far I promise to give you a private reading of the next chapter of my book._

_-Varric_

 

_Seeker,_

_Thank you for missing when you threw that sword across the courtyard at me. Has anyone ever told you you're cute when your mad?_

_-Varric_

_**_

_Varric,_

_What the hell did you put in that last note to Cass? She just screamed and ripped the paper in half before punching the head clean off one of the dummies. Scared Sera so bad she nearly fell of the fucking roof. You might want to hide somewhere for awhile. Also Cullen says he's holding you responsible if we don't have any more training dummies by tomorrow._

_-Bull_

**

_To “THE” Iron Bull,_

_I am holding you responsible for replacing my damaged property. You owe me six gold pieces and I expect you to pay promptly._

_-Dorian_

 

_Dorian,_

_You're billing me SIX GOLD PIECES for a fucking pillow?_

_I'll buy you another damn pillow, but FUCK YOU if you think I'm paying six gold for it._

_Besides, you slept fine without it for the rest of the trip._

_-Bull_

 

_Bull,_

_That pillow was VERY expensive and made out of hard to find Fade touched Imperial Vestment Cotton filled with enchanted feathers to keep both sides cool all night._

_And you GORED it. With your beast horns._

_And how I slept is neither here nor there. You ruined it, so pay up._

_-Dorian_

 

_Dorian,_

_It was Cullen's fault, he's the one who threw it, why isn't he getting the bill?_

_-Bull_

 

_Bull,_

_Because Cullen only threw it after you tried to get Autumn to play the rest of the game topless. You're lucky he threw a pillow and not his fucking sword._

_If you send me another letter that doesn't also have a pouch of money attached to it I'm going to set your “secret” stash of Maraas-lok on fire._

_I'm never riding in a carriage with you again._

_-Dorian_

_**_

_Cullen,_

_Just so you know I am never washing that shirt and I'm thinking of framing it and hanging it above my bed._

_Kisses,_

_Dorian_

 

_Dorian,_

_I suppose you won if fair and square so you can do what you want with it. However creepy that idea may be._

_-Cullen_

 

_Cullen,_

_I'm not creepy. I merely have a very active imagination that happens to get a lot of encouragement from the memory of you shirtless._

_-Dorian_

 

_Dorian,_

_I am going to go find you some other man to bed so you can stop hitting on me before Autumn starts taking you seriously and murders you._

_-Cullen_

 

_Cullen,_

_Do you have men that look like you just lying around somewhere? Please tell me yes. Tell me there's an island of strapping ex-templar just dying to be discovered by a naughty mage to indulge all of their forbidden fantasies._

_-Dorian_

 

_Dorian,_

_You need a hobby. Perhaps several._

_-Cullen_

**

_Curly,_

_I take it your homecoming was...exciting._

_-Varric_

 

_Varric,_

_Aren't you already in enough trouble with people? Do you really want to add me to the list?_

_-Cullen_

 

_Curly,_

_Come on! I need to know the details. Do it for the sake of literature. For the sake of passion everywhere! Inquiring minds need to know how the stalwart commander of the Inquisition has captured the heart of it's powerful leader! For scientific purposes, of course. Consider it a step forward in improving the field of romance for the masses._

_-Varric_

 

_Varric,_

_No._

_-Cullen_

 

_Curly,_

_FOR SCIENCE!_

_-Varric_

 

_Varric,_

_Stop asking or I'll tell Cassandra where you're hiding._

_-Cullen_

 


	71. The Worst Excuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Faren and Bryce probably shouldn't be in the bar in the middle of the day.

They sat at the bar, Cole perched on a stool next to them like some sort of awkward, gangly bird, his hair askew as he watched the people around them. He nodded his head towards an exchange currently taking place between Dorian and Iron Bull, across the tavern, and Faren and Bryce turned to observe themselves, as instructed.

Dorian crossed his arms, tapping his foot as he looked down at Bull, who was seated at the table. Well, Faren amended, looking _down_ might not be the best way to describe it, as it more or less made them eye level, evening their height differences out. Dorian looked furious, and Bull looked like he was gradually loosing his patience with each tap of the mage’s toes.

“I don’t care if you think it’s Cullen’s fault. It was your horn, so it needs to be your money.” Dorian snapped, his mustaches quivering.

Bull looked up at him, and their eyes locked together, charged energy passing between them that felt like it lit up the bar. “I already told you, no normal person would pay that much for a pillow. Sleep on something reasonably priced.”

“Like you?” Dorian smirked as the verbal jab landed, Bull flinching for the barest fraction of a second before resuming his carefully constructed nonchalance.

“Hey, I wouldn’t turn it down. How much coin we talking? Should I get Krem over here to help negotiate prices? Hey, maybe you can buy all of the Chargers and we can lay down beneath your footsies every night! It would be only slightly more expensive than your fucking pillow.” Bull slammed his mug down on the table, making some of the Chargers that were sitting at the table jump. Krem, sitting on the top of a chair in the corner, stuck his head around to see what was happening, and when he saw it was the pair of them he rolled his eyes and resumed trying to balance a bottle of ale on his nose.

Dorian’s face filtered through several different expressions before he finally settled on a steady glower. “Can you ever be a decent person, even once?”

Bull frowned at that, and they looked at each other for a very long time, neither of them moving a muscle, their eyes locked together. After an eternity had started and ended at that small table at the Herald’s Rest, Bull finally sighed and pulled six gold pieces out of his pocket. He stood, and set them very gently onto the table, looking at Dorian the entire time that he did so.

“I’ll try to be more _decent_ next time.” His voice was low, and dark, and Dorian swallowed visibly after the larger man spoke. Then Bull walked out of the tavern, leaving his drink, the coins, and the Altus behind.

Cole rapped his knuckles on the bar, drawing their attention away from the morose mage at the table.“Tell the story.”

Faren wasn't quite sure what the spirit - boy - thing - was asking, but Bryce seemed to be prepared for the question, and chimed in right away. “They insult each other, but they don’t really mean it. You can tell by the way they can’t stop looking at each other, even when they’re pretending to be mad. Even when they _are_ mad, they still want to look at each other. They also use their anger to get closer, always moving inches together. They don’t want to fight, they want to…well…” Bryce trailed off, too polite to finish the sentence.

Faren stared at him, confounded. All he had seen were two angry men, yelling at each other. “Wow, I would have just said they fucking hated each other.”

Cole smiled. “You see. You see but don’t understand. You know, but don’t have the shapes…” he furrowed his brows, knocking a knuckle against his temple. “No, that’s not the right way…the words, you don’t have the words to tell it.”

“How can you tell that I saw all that, and didn’t just think I did after Bryce said something?” Faren took a sip of ale, trying not to get a headache from the circular thinking.

Cole shrugged. “It was there. I can see it, hear it.”

Faren looked at Bryce, shaking his head. “He cheats.”

Bryce laughed. “Whatever works. He’s helped more people in a day just by watching them than I have my entire time in the Inquisition.”

A shadow passed over them, and Faren jumped as a familiar voice started speaking, whisper soft near his ear. “My, my. Isn’t this cozy.” Leliana walked around to the side of him, settling on the edge of a stool and crossing her legs, looking for all the world that she was sitting down for tea. Which inevitably meant that she had intentions to do anything but, and it did not bode well for Bryce and Faren, who were not where they were supposed to be because ale and lessons from Cole had sounded like a good idea. It was turning out to be considerably less enjoyable than they had wished.

Cole, undisturbed by the Nightingale’s sudden arrival, waived at her. “Hello.”

“Having fun keeping my scouts from their duties, Cole?”

Cole, eternally unperturbed, nodded. “Yes.”

Leliana laughed musically. “I should have known you would say that. Cole, I believe Blackwall was looking for you. Something about wanting you to try to listen to Sera, he thinks she’s putting something in his blasted beard shampoo.”

“She is, but it isn’t what he thinks. I’ll go. Goodbye Faren, goodbye Bryce.” Cole hopped off the stool and slinked across the bar, disappearing out of the door in the blink of an eye. Faren gulped as he realized that they were now alone with the spymaster, who was grinning at them in a very unnerving manner.

“So, boys, what is it you’re _supposed_ to be doing right now?” she tapped a finger against her lips, tilting her head. “I recall all of the scouts that had the day off, and unless you’ve had one fucking interesting day off that involved becoming _not elven_ , I’m fairly certain you aren’t Simmons and Gayle.”

Bryce bowed low for her. “Apologies, Lady Nightingale. I had finished up the message deliveries, and so Varric had told me that if I did not go have a drink he would pour one down the back of my armor.”

Leliana tipped back her head and laughed again. “Ah, a fair enough excuse. Which reminds me, I’m officially taking you off messenger duty. I have another assignment that I think you would be perfect for. Especially since you seem so keen on watching people when they don’t think they’re being watched.”

“Um…thank you, I think.” Bryce scratched his nose nervously.

“Relax, you’re going to serve as the guard to the Inquisitor’s quarters, or Cullen’s office. I need someone keeping tabs on them that can determine their less obvious needs and see to them.” She lifted a hand and blew on her fingernails.

Bryce bowed again, lower this time, and seemed to be genuinely excited. “Thank you, my lady. It’s an honor. I won’t let you down!”

“Indeed. Run along now, before I decide I don’t believe your story about Varric.” She fluttered her fingers at him, and he bobbed a quick salute before shuffling out of the tavern as fast as his freckled feet could carry him.

Faren realized that Leliana was staring at him. He had a sudden and overwhelming wish that the floor would open up and swallow him hole, saving him from the fierce scrutiny of the redheaded rogue in front of him.

“Care to offer a story for yourself, dwarf?”

He cleared his throat. Then, when no words came to him, he cleared it again. “Um. I was…thirsty?” he winced at the word tumbled out of his mouth, horrified at the worst excuse that had ever been fabricated in the history of all time.

She stood, walking up to him with deliberate steps, her eyes frosty. “Have a nice day, Faren.”

Then she sauntered off, and he was left to wonder what horrible fate awaited him for skipping out on rookery duty.

He found out the next day that being caught red handed by the Nightingale was a terrible fate indeed, as he had been assigned as the official messenger for all missives being taken between Seeker Pentaghast and Varric Tethras. He sighed when he found out, and donned a thicker helmet, resolving to be more cautious with his unauthorized relaxation forays in the future.

 


	72. Why do You Smell Like Fresh Bread?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cullen gets surprise breakfast.

_Cullen,_

_My people were able to track down the location of Samson's stronghold with the information from the letters Autumn found in Emprise du Lion. I've marked it on the map, and I would advise we start prepping a team to head there at once, perhaps we can catch him unawares._

_You should know that he appears to have an entire suit of armor made out of Red Lyrium. Based on Dagna's research, he should be dead, or at the very least insane. It could make this mission a significantly higher risk than others, so plan carefully._

_-Leliana_

***

Cullen rose before the sun, climbing carefully out of the bed so as not to disturb Autumn's motionless form, small body spread out over a good majority of the mattress, limbs akimbo while her pillow had somehow found its way to sit atop her bottom rather than under her head. He wondered how he had ever found her slumber _peaceful_ before, even if her face still held a serene expression, smashed against the mattress as it was. Although no matter what acrobatics she performed at night, he never woke up ahead of his own schedule, so there was something to be said about her stealth even while unconscious. He laughed quietly to himself, shaking his head as he dressed and marveling at the strangeness of regularly sharing a bed with her.

He took a moment to pop his head outside the door, sending one of the guards waiting on the lower level to fetch the paperwork from his office. He preferred to work at Autumn's desk until she woke, rather than slipping away without getting to say good morning. She usually slept in at least a couple of hours later than he did, his lover not exactly what one would call a morning person unless she had to be. He stretched, joints popping with the extended motion, before running a comb through his hair while he waited for the guard to return, taming the locks that had curled overnight back into something more presentable.

The soft knock at the door signaled the man's return, and Cullen padded down the steps quickly, to answer before he felt the need to knock louder and potentially wake Autumn. When he was handed a small tray containing not only his stack of paperwork but a pot of fresh tea, two mugs, and a duo of pastries just out of the oven, he gave the guard a grateful smile, thanking him profusely for his thoughtfulness. He carried everything as carefully as he could and set it down on the desk, circling around to take a seat to go over reports and plan the day.

He sipped absently at the tea while he reviewed Leliana's note, frowning when he looked at the research Dagna had attached about the armor. The designs she approximated were frightening, to say the least, metal worked over with so much red lyrium that it shouldn't even be able to touch bare skin without severe consequences. If Samson was wearing something like that while also drinking it...he _should_ be dead, as Dagna had suggested, but if he wasn't, which obviously he was not, it would make him immensely powerful.

It would be dangerous to take him out. Even though they had wiped out the Venatori's main supply of red lyrium, the odds were that Samson's personal supply wouldn't have been cut off. His station in their army likely ensured him a limitless store of the vile substance, if not as a perk of rank then for the practical purpose of keeping him functioning for whatever plans Corypheus had. They might have some advantage if they could take him unaware, as Leliana suggested, which of course meant a small strike team. It was the tactically sound option. Perhaps a group of no more than six or seven, sneaking in to hit them before they could organize against it. Unfortunately, that meant Autumn and her group would be the ones to go, which made him hesitate to support the plan. Samson's fascination with her was enough of a reason for Cullen to never want to put Autumn anywhere near the man, if he could help it, but of course they were at war, and she was their Inquisitor, leaving him few options. In all likelihood, she would never be talked out of being the one to handle the situation, because she was stubborn, and foolhardy, and too brave and selfless for her own good.

“Mm...why do you smell like fresh bread?” Autumn mumbled sleepily from the bed. She sat up, rubbing her bleary eyes and blinking at him in confusion. Her hair shot out in all directions, a frizzy, tangled mess of red curls that was so endearing he felt his mouth quirk into a smile, despite the dire subject he had just been studying.

“I imagine it's the pastries the guard brought up.” he answered her.

She blinked for a moment more before nodding sagely, as though this was some profound statement of truth. She yawned, reaching one of her arms in the air as she stretched, the sheet falling away from her body and leaving her bare chested in the cold morning air. He hadn't remembered to rekindle the fire, and the temperature quickly proved too much for her as she snapped her arm back down, shivering and pulling the sheet up around her shoulders and over her head like a hood. She peered out of her linen cocoon with brighter eyes, the sequence of events driving the last of the sleepy fog from her head.

“Is that...tea?” she asked, looking at the pot on the desk hopefully. He nodded and poured her a cup while she scrambled out of the bed, taking the wrap of sheets with her. She took the cup and cradled it in her hands, smelling the gentle aroma before sipping gingerly to test the temperature. Finding it to her liking, she took a longer drink, eyes closing in contentment. “Mm, promote that guard.” she said at last.

“Right away, your worship.” his sarcastic remark earned him a resentful glare.

“You can't treat me like a bloody religious figure when my breasts are covered in your teeth marks.” she quipped.

He choked on the sip of tea he had been trying to swallow, coughing as he set his cup down on the desk. She walked over and helpfully pounded on his back, clearing the liquid out of his lungs.

“I suppose you have a point there.” he said when he had gotten his breath back. He took advantage of her proximity, pulling at her arms until she tumbled down into his lap, mindful not to spill her tea as she did. She leaned into him as their lips met, a sweet affirmation of their feelings for each other in the simple gesture. “Good morning.” he added, kissing the tip of her nose.

She wrinkled her face in reaction to the ticklish peck, giggling. “Good morning.” She glanced over at the desk and the stack of papers there that were addressed to him. “So Commander, is there anything of interest to report this morning?”

He groaned, resting his head on her shoulder and wishing that there was some way to pretend that he had no news for her, if only for a little longer. “Yes. Leliana's people rooted out Samson's hideout.”

“So we know where to find him now?” her back tensed, the languor of the morning fading as her mind turned to the business of winning their war against the Venatori. “What are our plans?”

“My recommendation would be a small strike team. With any luck we'll be able to get in and take him out before he can rally reinforcements.” he rubbed his hand up and down her back absently as he spoke.

“Catch him with his pants down.” she nodded her approval at the idea, and Cullen couldn't help but laugh at her use of the term.

“He would likely be significantly less dangerous if you did.” he reached around her and grabbed Dagna's research, handing it over so she could read it.

“Well fuck.” she said after she had finished, tossing the paper back on the desk and scowling. “I guess I'd better take Cass and Bull. Maybe the pair of them can grind his ass into the ground.”

“I'd like to join you.” the words were out of his mouth before the plan had even fully formed in his head. He could leave his duties with Captain Rylen, who serendipitously happened to be in Skyhold at the moment, taking care of requisitions before heading back out to the Western Approach.

She eyed him warily. “Cullen, are you sure? His armor is made of _lyrium_.”

He scrubbed at his face as he thought over how to put his thoughts into words. “I know there might be some inherent risks but...I feel like Samson is my responsibility. He was from my order. For Andraste's sake, I _knew_ the man in Kirkwall, so I feel like I should be there to help take him out. Besides that, I would...I would rest easier knowing I would be fighting at your side, this time.” he ducked his head, staring intently at the desk to prevent himself from seeing her reaction, afraid it might be unfavorable, afraid that she might see him as too weak to join her.

“Alright. I'd like to leave tomorrow, if that's not too early for you.” she said evenly. He looked up and didn't see any pity or worry in her eyes, and he let out the breath that he had been holding in.

“Tomorrow should be fine. I'll set up the preparations at once.” he gave her a kiss on her cheek before gently moving her off of his lap.

She sighed as she stood, making her way over to her chest of clothes, sheets still trailing behind her. “I suppose that means I have to get dressed and track down the rest of the party.”

He gathered his papers from the desk and gave her a rueful smile. “As long as you do them in that order.”

She laughed, tilting her head back in the way she always did when she found something particularly funny. “I'm pretty sure only half of them would properly appreciate that kind of a stunt.”

“Mm, you sell yourself short, love. In any case, I would appreciate it most if you didn’t.” he gave her one last kiss on the cheek before heading down the stairs and out the door, to set things in motion for their journey, her voice calling a cheerful goodbye to usher him out.

 


	73. My Beautiful Steel Flower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which letters, and Rylen really seems to have a problem.

_Faren,_

_I’m back in town! Meet me in the tavern tonight, I’ve got big plans! Clothes optional._

_\- Rylen_

 

_Rylen,_

_Did it ever occur to you that I had things to do?_

_\- Faren_

 

_Faren,_

_???????????????????_

_\- Rylen_

_**_

_Bryce,_

_Cards tonight, apparently. Hope you weren’t busy._

_\- Faren_

 

_Faren,_

_I can’t, the Commander and Inquisitor are leaving first thing in the morning. I’ve got to get their horses brushed, and if I don’t give it a handful of oats the Commander’s horse is always persnickety first thing in the morning, and it puts him in a sour mood, and the Inquisitor doesn’t need that kind of trouble on missions._

_\- Bryce_

_**_

_Bryce,_

_Are…are you their mother?_

_\- Rylen_

 

_Rylen,_

_I know you normally deliver compassion from somewhere just below your belt, but there are other ways to care about people besides sleeping with them._

_I’ll give you time to absorb that shocker._

_\- Bryce_

 

_Bryce,_

_We can meet in the stables for cards. You’re a weird kid, you know that?_

_\- Rylen_

 

_Rylen,_

_If you start hitting on the horses I’m leaving._

_\- Bryce_

_**_

_My Beautiful Steel Flower,_

_I have missed you. I know that you are leaving on the morrow, but I long to see your face! Please, meet me in the gardens when the moon has just kissed the sky, so that I may look into your eyes and know that love and honor still exist in the world!_

_Yours,_

_Your Secret Admirer_

 

_Rylen,_

_I know that this is you, and you should hope that I don’t see you before I leave or I’m going to mount your moon-kissing head on the battlements._

_Your SUPERIOR OFFICER,_

_\- Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast_

_**_

_Cullen,_

_I hear you’re tagging along tomorrow. Great! A few things you should know._

_1\. She’s a rogue, but she thinks she’s a tank. She likes to rush into battle. We’ve considered leashes, but we’re pretty sure she’d stab us for trying. Mostly we just watch her very carefully. And Solas has gotten REALLY good with barriers._

_2\. Whatever you do, don’t try to stop her. Just…I promise you, the argument will waste more time than it’s worth._

_3\. We drink at night. Be prepared for that._

_4\. If you do it in a sleeping bag, Varric is gonna be writing about it. Just saying._

_\- Bull_

 

_Bull,_

_You know, I have been in the field before._

_\- Cullen_

 

_Cullen,_

_Not with her._

_\- Bull_

_**_

_Bryce, Faren_

_1, Lilly Hawke_

_2\. Cassandra Pentaghast_

_3\. The Iron Bull_

_4\. Madame de Fer_

_\- Rylen_

 

_Rylen,_

_I am not making a list of that! That’s terrible!_

_\- Bryce_

_P.S. Do you have a death wish? Or did you accidentally make a list of people most likely to murder you for hitting on them?_

 

_Rylen,_

_No._

_\- Faren_

_**_

_Arcarnast_ (this has been crossed out)

_Arcinist_ (this has also been crossed out)

_Arsonist_ (this has been crossed out as well, with very bold strokes)

_Little_ ,

_Somebody said I should talk to you about exploding things. Big fancy expert, you._

_Can you make bees with ice and fire?_

_\- Sera_ (Sera has drawn a butt, and then crossed it out and drawn a heart, and then crossed it out and drawn a stick figure with large ears holding bottles of what might be flaming bees)

 

_Sera,_

_YES._

_I mean, I could definitely try._

_\- Dagna_

_PS I like Little! I’ve never had a nickname before, just the title._

 


	74. Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroes arrive at the Shrine of Dumat.

When they arrived at the location Leliana had provided, the Shrine of Dumat, it was quiet. Cullen and the rest of the team had observed from a distance for some time, but hadn’t seen any movement of any kind, not in or out or even atop the tall, crumbling walls.

“Was Red sure about the location?” Bull asked from where he lounged on his back in the sand, staring up at the cloudless sky with an expression of boredom spread across his features.

“Have you ever known the Nightingale to _not_ know what she was talking about?” Varric asked him caustically.

Bull shrugged. “There's a first time for everything.”

Autumn glanced at Cullen, a crease forming on her brow when he shook his head to let her know that he still hadn't seen anything. “Something's wrong.” she crouched next to him to look over the lip of the dune that they were using as cover.

“I agree, but I don't think we can leave here without going in there and at least checking things out.” he told her, although judging by the stillness he was beginning to think Leliana might have, in fact, gotten bad intelligence.

“We should wait until nightfall and move on the fortress. I see no sense waiting around out here for another day.” Cassandra, as usual, inserted pragmatism into the situation. Her face was red from the boiling heat as she swung her sword, fighting of invisible enemies to pass the time. It was apparently very interesting work if Varric's rapt expression was to be believed, although Cullen had an inkling that it had less to do with combat techniques and more to do with the fact that the warrior had stripped down to nothing but her pants and a loose tank top that clung to her figure with sweat.

“I concur with Seeker Pentaghast.” Solas said, not bothering to look up from his chess match with Dorian, the board stacked on top one of their packs as they sat cross legged in the sand beside it. “Were we going to see anything, we would have by this time. It is better to get this over with rather than wasting our energies worrying about what may come.”

“Unless it's a trap. Then we'd all be much better off whiling away our time behind this cursed dune rather than being shredded to bits.” Dorian moved one of his chess pieces as he spoke. Solas frowned at both his flippancy and his tactics.

“If it _is_ a trap, that means there's Venatori in there, which we obviously can't just leave stuff like that laying around.” Autumn replied. “If it _isn’t_ a trap, then we explore another dusty ruin and go home empty handed. Win-win, I say.”

Cullen snorted in amusement. “Your definition of 'winning' is circumspect, at best.”

She gave him a playful slap on his shoulder. “You haven't been on enough missions with me to know what a loss looks like.” Their companions concurred with a collection of chuckles.

“I've read the reports, I know how many disasters you manage to find.” he picked himself up, dusting the sand off his armor and swiping at the sweat covering his brow. “But in this case I can't say I disagree with the plan. We have to get in there sometime, might as well do it tonight.”

They readied their gear and settled down to wait the few hours left until night fell across the scorched desert.

*******

The wind had picked up shortly after the sun dipped below the horizon, stirring up massive clouds of dust that choked the air in their throats and blotted out the night sky. Everything around them was a hazy blur of grey and blue, the sand losing its color with the sun's departure and casting the world in a strange reverse of its daytime palette. It made for miserable scenery, but they could hardly complain, as it would disguise their approach completely, the murky clouds better cover than they could have hoped for earlier in the day.

Autumn and the others used parts of their cloaks to wrap around their faces, shielding their mouths and noses from the worst of the grit swirling around them. They were only a mile or so away from the shrine, but it took a considerable amount of time to make their way to it. Sand piled up in the folds of her clothes and somehow found its way over the tops of her knee high boots, filling any gap it found and weighing her down. She plodded on, her thighs burning with the extra effort that it took to pick up her oddly weighted feet, head tilted low to avoid getting her eyeballs sanded away. When they finally reached their destination, it was a massive relief, the high walls of the structure blocking the worst of the wind and giving them a much needed respite from the ravages of endless clouds of dust.

They hovered outside the main gate, an opening lacking any kind of secure door that they could see, and waited patiently while Varric slipped around the edge, lurking in the heavy shadows to try and see what awaited them inside. It was mere moments, but to Autumn it felt like hours that she remained braced against the wall, breathing quietly as her body tensed and awaited action. When he made his way back to them, they huddled around to hear his account of what he saw, whispered in a low voice made gritty by a throat stripped raw from the dry air.

According to their stealthy dwarf, nothing waited inside. A large courtyard filled with tents and supplies, but not a soul in sight. No patrols, no guards, not a spec of red lyrium to be seen.

“Alright, move out but stay silent. I don't want a word out of anybody in there unless its absolutely necessary.” she ordered them, a barrage of silent nods her only answer.

They crept around the corner and through the gate, sticking to the shadows until there were none left. The courtyard was as Varric had described, empty but for stacks of boxes and tents half demolished by the wind. She moved forward slowly, carefully placing each foot on the ground, mindful of the sand grinding beneath her soles, crunching loudly if she didn't watch her pace. The others followed her lead, weapons held at the ready, seven pairs of eyes darting around nervously, waiting for the stillness to shatter and an enemy to spring at them. It seemed inevitable that _something_ would happen. Nothing was ever this quiet, this subdued, unless it was trying very hard to be so on purpose.

They had reached the far end of the courtyard when their expectations were met. The doors up the short flight of stairs burst open with a loud bang that sent Dorian leaping into the air precariously, despite the fact that they had all been awaiting this outcome. For several seconds it seemed as though the wood had thrown itself open, that perhaps the wind had played a trick on them and nothing at all would come through the opening, but soon enough they heard the rumbling steps, heavy footfalls crashing to the ground, and three massive forms were making their way towards the party.

The behemoths towered over them atop the stairs, three glittering piles of lyrium made mobile by the twisted human forms that lay somewhere beneath. A mutated roar tore from one of them, its hulking arm swinging forward to crash against the steps as though demonstrating what it wanted to do to the fragile people below. Autumn felt the reassuring buzz of Solas' magic envelope her, a thin shield to absorb any damage that she might fail to dodge, and she caught the shimmer as the same barriers were cast on the rest of them. She reached to her belt and pulled out one of her elemental flasks, cracking the thin glass against the metal chest plate built into her armor and coating her in the complicated formula. There was a loud pop as it reacted to the air, sparks flickering around her before she inhaled the intense aroma, the fumes wafting in her face and making her dizzy, but for only a moment. This particular flask always smelled like the first rainstorm sweeping across an open plain, that very indescribable scent of the first drops of water hitting dried out earth as lighting struck overhead. Time seemed to slow down around her as her nerves reacted to the potion, the others moving languidly as she started to pump her legs and propel herself forward. Her enhanced speed enabled her to reach the behemoth before it had even picked its limb up off the ground, and as she struck her daggers against it she could see lightning dance around its body in slow motion, a bright blue ribbon being layered in the air. She felt its body crack under the force of her blows, raining them against its stomach, shoulders, and knees.

When the effect of her tonic wore off, time seemed to snap back in on itself, and an explosion of sound rocked through her body. The behemoth screamed, electricity coursing over its exterior and causing it to seize erratically even as its arm shattered into several pieces and fell apart all over the ground. It sank to its knees, still in the throes of paralysis, and a bolt from across the courtyard sunk directly into one of its distended eyes, driving it backward and finishing what Autumn had started. _That’s one_ , she thought.

Turning, she found her next target, the creature closest to her banging a heavy limb against Cullen's shield, the hard crystal screeching as it came in contact with the polished metal. He grit his teeth as he took the hit, his feet sliding against the stone below as he was driven back a couple of feet. She moved, gathering a short running start before leaping headlong towards the beast, turning her body at the last second so that she flipped around behind it, her daggers scraping across its midsection as she moved. The blow carved little cracks along the surface, and as she found her footing again a loud snap indicated success, a chunk of red crystal breaking off and crashing to the ground. It screamed, a garbled noise, and tried to lurch around to defend itself, but Cullen was faster as he drove the point of his sword through the hole she had created. It sank in, finding resistance briefly before the rest of the behemoths shell gave way, the blade jutting out the other side and sending more pieces of red lyrium flying. It crumpled in on itself, the middle no longer stable enough to support the mountainous formations around the head. Cullen yanked out his blade and stepped away just in time to avoid the toppling mass as it thundered to the ground.

The courtyard shook with the sound of the third one falling, Cassandra standing over it with a glare as formidable as her weapon. Bull was already exchanging a high five with Varric, and a quick survey told her none of them were injured. She flashed them a giant grin, pumping her arm in the air to celebrate their victory.

Then the building in front of them exploded and the world was swept from under her feet.

 


	75. How Does it Feel?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which healing takes place and Samson is a terrible penpal.

His vision spun, colors and shapes blurring dangerously as the world was swept away in a wave of heat and dust. He choked on the air he drew in, the acrid tang of lyrium heavy as it hit his lungs before he was lifted off his feet and thrown to the ground. His back slammed into the unyielding stone and his breath was driven from him, his head knocking painfully against something sharp as he slid away from the force of the blast. His ears were ringing, a deafening, singular tone that blocked out all other sound as he worked to right himself. He couldn't seem to find purchase, his hands locking onto the floor but unable to steady the careening landscape around him. He started coughing, the walls of his chest shuddering with the effort to take in air only to be met with more dust and corruption.

A hand wrapped around one of his own, yanking him upward and back on his feet. He blinked, his vision improving with the upright position and the slow settling of the detritus in the air. Another coughing fit overtook him and he doubled over, his airways burning as though filled with flame. He could hear muffled voices now, strangely garbled and intelligible to his shocked ears. A small, steady arm wrapped around his shoulders as his knees buckled, and he found himself struggling to stay upright, struggling to maintain control over his body. His muscles seemed to revolt, shaking forcefully so that it felt an earthquake was in his bones, rattling away until he crumbled into ruin. His stomach emptied violently onto the ground by his feet, his heaving breaths being chased by relentless retching.

Cullen saw dark splotches around the edges of his vision as he shook uncontrollably, and he wondered if this is what the end of the world felt like.

*******

“There's lyrium all over in this fucking dust!” Dorian shouted, using the sleeve on one arm to cover his face while he waved ineffectively at the air with the other.

Autumn grit her teeth, feeling bits of sand grind together between them as she held up Cullen while he puked all over the ground and trembled. “Solas!” she called his name, a succinct order for help that she knew the elf would understand implicitly.

Solas emerged from a cloud of dust beside her, and he was casting before he even finished walking. A cool, blue glow enveloped them as the mage worked, and a few moments later Cullen stopped retching and his tremors subsided to a more moderate shake. She could feel him gaining his composure slowly as Solas stopped his spell and began rummaging around in his pack, cursing as he had trouble locating what he needed.

Autumn walked Cullen over to one of the crates that were still intact and eased him down. She glanced up and noticed the rest of her team, filthy and scuffed but otherwise hale. “Varric, high ground. Cass, Bull, flank us and keep an eye out.” she snapped. They immediately obeyed, Cassandra taking up position facing the burning building while Bull circled to the other side of the group to watch their backs, and Varric darted up the stairs to a vantage point where he could overlook them all. She looked questioningly at Solas, who had abandoned the bag he had previously been rifling through and motioned for Bull to toss him the larger communal pack that held more of their combat supplies.

“There are trace amounts of lyrium in his blood. I need to administer the tonic I brought for just this purpose, before it can do any lasting damage. If I cannot, he may relapse into the worst of the withdrawals.” Solas told her as he continued looking.

Cullen waved a hand weakly, recovered considerably from his condition only moments before. “I'll be fine, we need to make sure nothing else is going to come out of that building.” he coughed roughly as the effort of speaking proved too much for him.

“Negative. Shut up and let Solas work.” she ordered, her voice stone. Cullen gave her a sullen glare and opened his mouth to protest, but Dorian spoke faster.

“Don't bother, Commander. It's not a battle you can win.”

Cullen set his jaw stubbornly. “We can worry about healing after -”

“Tried that argument before.” Bull called back to them, keeping his eyes on the entrance to the shrine. “You don't travel with us, so you don't know, but Autumn doesn't let us put off healing. Trust me, it goes smoother if you just shut up and let her fuss.”

“I'm not _fussing_ , Bull. It makes strategic sense to patch up whenever we can.” she huffed, resenting the implication that she was some mother duck fretting needlessly over her brood. “We heal when I say we heal.”

Cassandra made a sound something in between her usual disgusted noise and a snort of amusement. “Yes, unless it's _you_. _Then_ we _never_ have time to stop.” The warrior spared a glance their way, giving Autumn a once over. “Speaking of which, Solas, her forehead is bleeding.”

Autumn snapped her hand up, feeling the sticky blood trailing down the side of her face that she hadn't notice before. She scowled at the Seeker as she used her cloak to wipe away the gore She felt more oozing out of the wound to take its place immediately. “I'll be -”

“Fine?” Cullen gave her a wicked grin before another coughing fit overtook him.

Solas exultant cry drew their attention, the elf holding a small vial of liquid aloft with an expression of triumph. “Found it!” he dropped the bag and returned to Cullen's side, uncorking the vial and shoving it unceremoniously in his face.

Cullen downed it without preamble and grimaced. “Ugh, that's vile.” he stated around another burst of coughing.

“Do not throw it up, Commander. I do not have another.” Solas warned him. Cullen gave him a baleful look, but nodded his assent.

Solas turned to Autumn, bringing his hands up to examine the gash on her forehead. She tried to scowl at him, but making the expression brought a flash of pain across her face and she winced. “Is everyone else alright?” she asked, loudly enough that they could all hear.

“Minor cuts, nothing more.” Cassandra replied.

“My jacket's ruined but I think I'm in one piece.” Varric called down.

“I think I almost lost a nipple, but it isn't bleeding anymore.” Bull reported.

“I'm filthy.” Dorian whined. “Although apparently uninjured.”

Solas gave her a rueful smile as he wiped gently at her wound. “I am fine, Lethallan.” He placed a finger on her cheek, tilting her head so he could get a better look at the cut.

“Just bandage it for now, it's not worth wasting your mana.” she told him. He gave her a look as though he disapproved, but nodded in obeisance anyways. He affixed some gauze to the wound and finished wiping off her face, carefully holding her chin to keep her head in place. “Can he fight?” she flicked her eyes to Cullen, keeping her voice low.

Solas pursed his lips, considering. “He should be well enough, unless we encounter something more formidable than we are used to.”

He released her face, and she gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Solas.” She turned to the others. “Alright, lets get in there and find out who tried to blow us up.”

She extended her hand to Cullen and helped him stand, relieved that he seemed relatively steady on his feet. They gathered their weapons and equipment and moved into the burning shrine without any further ado.

*******

His head was pounding, a steady throb that started between his eyes and reverberated all the way through to the back of his skull, but he ignored it as best he could as they made their way through the ruined doorway. The aftertaste of the potion clung to the back of his throat, mingling with the dust and making it raw and fiery, like he'd swallowed some clawed creature that had fought the whole way down. There was also a dull ache in his bones, as though his body had been suddenly reminded of its need for lyrium and its thrumming power. The effort of standing upright and moving forward was causing sweat to bead on his skin, the padding under his armor clinging to him in a frustrating way. He ignored it all and willfully forced his mind to focus on the task at hand; searching for Samson.

The inside of the building looked to have been a ruin before the blast, and now it was decimated. Large, jutting spires of red lyrium reached towards the ceiling as fires fluttered all around. Smoke drifted thickly through the air, and Solas had the presence of mind to hand them all wet clothes to wrap around their faces to lessen the damage to their lungs. Thankfully, the ceiling had been blown out, so the wind was picking up the worst of it and bringing in cleaner, albeit slightly dusty, air.

It looked like the explosion was intended to wipe out everything in the fort, but there were areas that remained relatively intact. They made their way through the front of the structure, where the worst of the damage could be seen, and into the back rooms where sections of what could have been research labs and living quarters could be identified. There were a few red templar bodies laying on the ground, but none of them yet drew breath. They spread out, trying to examine what they could find, to ascertain what had happened.

Cullen walked into a room with a large bed, the walls almost completely obscured by the lyrium growing everywhere. Standing this close to it sent a stab of pain through his brain, but he grit his teeth and ignored it. Lyrium bottles, completely drained of their content,s but still stained red with the remembrance of the substance they once held within, littered the floor. A stout desk was pushed as far against a wall as it could fit, its surface covered in papers, ink bottles, and writing utensils. On top of all that rested a sealed envelope that caught his eye. It was addressed...to _him_. He strode over and lifted it, the parchment feeling heavy in his shaking hands, his name written in a familiar script across the middle. He ripped open the seal on the back and pulled out its contents.

_Rutherford,_

_At one time we were the same. We both started in that room in Kirkwall, but life had different paths for us. You could have been powerful, you could have been great, but your decisions led you in the opposite direction. You're fighting for the wrong side, and you're too stupid to know it. You don't know what real glory looks like, and I'll make sure you never get the chance to find out._

_How does it feel? How does it feel to waste away your life fucking the so-called Herald of Andraste while Corypheus plots her death? How does it feel to stand in the shadow of some woman, to trade your glory and manhood away, all so you can get some whore in your bed? Do you enjoy it? Does the way she moan your name make you forget you're a broken, worthless example of a man?_

_You think you've won already. You think that by stopping us at Adamant and in Orlais you've defeated us. You could never understand how wrong you are, how weak you are, so I won't bother trying to explain it to you. I will only warn you. If you keep going, we will annihilate you and everything you think you stand for. Make no mistake, Rutherford. We WILL prevail, and when we do, I'm going to make your precious Inquisitor pay for all the trouble she's caused. I'm going to show her exactly what it feels like to be powerless, exactly what it looks like to have the power of a god on your side._

_Remember that I warned you when you're wondering how it all fell apart._

_-Samson_

 


	76. Maddox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a good person was used by the wrong side.

Autumn passed through the glowing remains of the door, embers breaking off in the air like fireflies dancing on the wind around her head. She jumped when a beam of wood collapsed across the room, ash puffing into the air as it settled against the ground again.

“Hello, Inquisitor Trevelyan.” the weak, flat voice startled her further, and she had to look around the room twice before she spotted the tranquil laying on the ground against the far wall. She rushed forward, kneeling down so that she could examine him better.

“Survivor!” she shouted back towards where she had just come. She turned back to the man as footsteps echoed outside, letting her know that she had been heard. “Are you alright?” He regarded her with blank, expressionless eyes, his features a passive mask below the bright red, sunburst mark burned into his forehead.

He didn't get a chance to answer before Cullen was skidding into the room, nearly losing his balance as he came to a stop in front of them. He blinked for a moment as recognition flashed behind his eyes. “Maddox?”

“Knight Captain Cullen.” the tranquil stated.

“You know him?” Autumn asked.

“He was made tranquil in Kirkwall...” Cullen trailed off, frowning.

Solas strode into the room, taking stock of the situation. She waved him over, indicating Maddox with her hand so that he would take a look at him and make sure that he was alright.

Maddox looked at her. “There is no need for healing magic, Inquisitor. I have taken my entire supply of blightcap essence. It is my intention to die.”

“What? Why? We wouldn't have hurt you.” her voice caught in her throat, sadness overtaking her.

“I could not let you question me, I would not wish to betray Samson.” he stated.

Cullen's fury was almost palpable as he scowled. “Samson must have picked him up off the streets in Kirkwall, used him to help craft that armor.”

“He saved me, Knight Captain. He saved me before he even needed me. That is why I have destroyed the shrine, to keep you from using us to track him down again.” his eyes fluttered and his breath started to hitch. Autumn reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder, as though she could reach out and bring him back from the brink. “I owed him....this much...” Maddox's eyes closed and his head dipped forward, his body slumping limply under her hand. She removed it, placing it at her throat as she swallowed back the feelings swelling within her.

Autumn closed her eyes, taking a deep breath that shook in her effort to control herself. It was bad enough what those made tranquil had to go through every day, but to have Samson take one and use them for...for what? For the twisted purposes that Corypheus wanted him for? As his own personal slave? A pet to build his ghastly artifacts? It broke her heart that Maddox had suffered this fate, that he'd been reduced to an empty vessel, dying alone in a burning relic while those that he supported left him behind. She felt a hand grip her shoulder and she turned, looking up and locking eyes with Solas, who gave her a sad half smile.

“He was not in any pain.” he said softly, although it brought her no comfort.

She shook her head, blinking away the tears before they could fall as her hair swayed around her face. “That doesn't make it fair.” She gathered herself and stood, looking around the room as though it might hold answers in the ruined walls. She tried not to look at Maddox again, not wanting to see his still form, a reminder of all the lives she failed every day, all the people that had been sacrificed by Corypheus, or by her in her effort to defeat him. “We shouldn't leave him here. He deserves a proper funeral.”

“That is...very kind of you.” Solas blinked several times around the moisture brimming in his eyes.

She glanced over at Cullen, who was shaking, and appeared to be having difficulty controlling his temper. She noticed a paper clutched in his hand, crumbled between his fingers. “Did you find something?” she asked him, nodding towards the parchment. He glanced down, following her gaze as if noticing what he held for the first time. He hesitated for a moment before handing it over, the fury in his eyes unmistakable. She read it over, Solas peering over her shoulder to get his own look. She felt his thin fingers tighten spasmodically around her shoulder in reaction to the hateful words there. He growled something in elven with vitriol, and looked over to Cullen, his blue eyes frozen over with rage.

She felt sick. Her stomach rolled as she re-read the hateful words on the page, written in a clean, steady hand, a script that seemed to contradict the meaning of the phrases it imparted. This man, this vile cretin who had failed in his life time and time again, had the gall to address a letter to Cullen and insinuate that _he_ was the lesser of the two? To imply that honest, honorable Cullen was unworthy while Samson was somehow better, the man who took an entire order of men and mutated them to suit the needs of a darkspawn playing at godhood. The templars weren't perfect, had not been for a long, long time...but they had never deserved this. They never deserved to have their skin crawling with corruption as they threw themselves mindlessly at the armies she brought to bear against them.

She crumpled the letter, tearing the paper roughly before tossing it into the flames gathered around the burning furniture. She stepped forward, Solas releasing her shoulder as she went and took Cullen's hand, bringing it up to rest on her chest over her beating heart, so that he might feel her convictions when she spoke. “We will stop him, and he will answer for his crimes. All of them.” For a moment, the only thing that she could see in his golden eyes was fear, but after a beat he nodded, his own resolve hardening.

Varric strode into the room, interrupting the exchange. “There's no one and nothing else here. Samson is long gone, if he was ever here in the first place.” he announced.

“He was here. He must have been tipped off that we were hunting him, or fled sometime after things went south for them in the Winter Palace.” Autumn shook her head.

“Fucker always did have a habit of slipping away to save his skin.” Varric growled.

“Hey, guys? I think I found something!” Bull's shout echoed oddly from one of the other chambers. Autumn took one last, forlorn look at Maddox before stepping out of the room to see what else they could dig out of the rubble.

*******

They passed the notes around amongst themselves as they rested in the ominous glow of the pyre that they had built for Maddox. Bull had found a cache of research that was proving rather enlightening, and Dorian had managed to dig out Maddox's crafting tools before the fires in the shrine had started causing the red lyrium inside to destabilize, and they'd been forced to flee. Cullen had grabbed Maddox's body and carried it out, all the way back to their camp in the desert. There they'd built the funeral pyre, and laid him to rest before settling down to go over their findings.

They were quiet as they absorbed the information. The things the Venatori had been doing...it was worse than they had thought, which was to say it was almost unspeakably horrible. There were a few pages as to the nature of red lyrium, how it affected those that ingested it, but it paled in comparison to the sheer amount of information on how to create it. It seemed once they had realized that it granted power, they had stopped trying to understand it further and moved on to finding the most efficient ways to manufacture it. Which was apparently to use people as fertilizer. Autumn was overcome with a horrified fascination as she read the journal entries of one of the men working in the labs at the shrine.

_The samples grow at a steady rate when in close proximity to areas where the veil has been thinned. Calpernia has protested the great number of sacrifices required to create these ideal circumstances, but Samson remains adamant that we speed up the growth process. I see no other way to enhance the growth. Imshael assures us if we increase the number of deaths he can coax more out of the samples._

_Calpernia has made a breakthrough. She has discovered that planting the samples within a person not only produces larger growths, but increases the rate at which they form exponentially. The person is consumed in the process, of course, but it will still require considerably less lives to produce what we need. Preparations to launch a full scale operation using her methods are already underway. Imshael seems pleased with the new directions, and is already calling the new site his 'living garden'. With these results, we should be able to produce more than enough red lyrium to supply the Elder One's army, and then some._

_Samson has agreed to Calpernia's insistence that we stop using the slaves as growth receptacles. We're moving on to the miners instead, which should be enough to supply us for the time being. I care little for how it is made, and I don't think I'll ever understand Calpernia's fascination with keeping the slaves out the process. Lives have to be taken either way, what does it matter where they come from?_

_The lyrium grown within human bodies is more potent than that of other races. Maddox has insisted that only material of this caliber be used in constructing the armor. His finalized tools have been completed and the project is well underway. Samson is returning to prep for the procedure of attaching the armor, when it is finished. Calpernia has stressed the importance of getting him ready, and I cannot say I disagree on this matter. The skin of the templar who perished in earlier experiments is enough of a reason to believe her warnings._

_The armor is complete and Samson underwent the attachment with only minor issues. The Elder One was pleased with the results once Samson had recovered from the initial pain and could return to normal duties. The Elder One has also finally made his decision and elected to use Samson as the Vessel. Calpernia isn't happy, but she's keeping her objections to herself for the most part._

_Our supplies have been cut off, and according to Samson Imshael has been slain. Maddox has assured us he has enough red lyrium to maintain Samson's armor, but we are all worried about the rest of the templars. There hasn't been any rationing yet, but it seems inevitable unless we can find another source of people to mine. Calpernia is refusing to allow us to turn to the slaves again. The Elder One seems to be losing his patience with her of late._

The journal cut off at that point, leaving Autumn to wonder if they had found another source of red lyrium or not. Hopefully not, but she made a mental note to have Leliana scout any likely areas. She would also have to make sure that Dagna got her hands on all of this information as soon as possible. Maybe the Arcanist could make sense of the more scientific notes, particularly the confusing schematics of armor, both Samson's current and previously tested models. With the tools they found, perhaps the enigmatic little dwarf could come up with a solution to taking him out, or at least weaken him. From what she understood of the notes, the armor would make him stronger than an entire fleet of those behemoth templars, which was not something that she felt like fighting, if she could help it.

She sighed, tossing the journal back into the stack of information before leaning back on her hands, letting her gaze drift up to the sky. The sun would be coming up soon, and she could just see the hints of violet where the horizon was starting to shift colors. The party was somber, none of them getting more than a paltry hour or two of sleep throughout the short night. They wanted to be gone from this place, to be back home where the sick song of the red lyrium didn't echo in their heads, and they could rest and pretend, even for just a little while, that things weren't as bad as they seemed. They would leave as soon as it was light enough for their horses to travel again, but until then they sat and morosely studied the texts of the enemy, even though none of them wanted the information to be true.

She leaned forward and shifted herself, moving closer to Cullen as he sat cross-legged not far from her, tired eyes pouring over a page in his lap. Settling next to him, she rested her head on his shoulder, seeking the simple comfort of contact with another person. He started briefly, looking down at her before giving her a small smile that didn't reach his eyes.

“Alright?” he asked her.

She nodded, making his body sway with the motion. “Alright enough. You?”

“Not really, but I think I can manage.” he sighed, putting his paper aside before wrapping an arm around her, resting his hand on her waist to pull her close. “Dagna's going to have a field day.”

She laughed a little, a weak chuckle that felt like it didn't really belong to her. “At least she'll be able to do some good with it.”

He kissed the top of her head. “We'll put a stop to them.”

“I wish we could do it faster.” she admitted.

“As do I, love. As do I.”

They sat in silence for the rest of the night, and as the sun finally ushered them into morning, she promised herself that she would make them pay, even if it was the last thing she did.

 


	77. Fine Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it took them long enough to get here.

Dorian didn't know why he was here. He was tired. He was drunk. Yet his feet had carried him to Bull's room in the middle of the night, each step bringing him closer without his brain bothering to explain to him what exactly he thought he was doing.

They had only just returned from their long trek through the god forsaken Western Approach, the Shrine of Dumat a smoldering ruin behind them that he would rather not remember. Dorian had promptly marched himself to his quarters, where he had gotten in a bath and opened a bottle of wine, hoping that one of those things would serve to make him feel less covered in sand and grit, and wash away the memories of the entire ordeal. After bathing, he'd taken to pacing his room, wearing a path in the soft carpet and trying fervently not to think about Bull.

He didn't want to spend his time looking at Bull. He didn't want to notice that his muscles were perfectly chiseled and that his chest rumbled when he spoke. He wished he could ignore the man's kind eye and strong jawline, the way his entire face lit up when he laughed. He didn't want to blush when Bull teased him with raunchy sex jokes, nor did he want to picture those things coming to pass in intricate detail. But somehow he couldn't _stop_ doing any of these things, which had caused his feet to carry him here of their own accord.

Dorian knew this was ill advised, a lapse in good sense that he couldn't find a single logical reason to pursue. Bull was a behemoth, comprised of raw passion and sexuality. He was probably in there with several serving girls right now, giving them everything that they had ever wanted in a man. He was positive that the moment he knocked Bull would send him away, laughing at his misery, at whatever strange notion that had brought him here. Dorian didn't need this...he didn't need to act out every sexual fantasy that crossed his mind, didn't need to let this...this infatuation cloud his judgment so. He certainly didn't need to give Bull any more fodder for his hobby of making Dorian blush.

He had just turned around and was going to head back to his room alone, to wait for his sense to return, when the door to Bull's bedroom opened. Dorian stopped in his tracks, waiting for the laughter or mockery to start as he desperately tried to come up with something to say that would explain his presence there.

“Well, aren't you going to come in?” Bull’s voice was low, carefully lacking any kind of emotion that Dorian could interpret. It was unexpected, and left him feeling off balance, as though he might tilt forward at any moment and spill across the floor.

“No.” Dorian replied, but he spun on his heels and marched through the door that Bull was holding open for him. He didn't make eye contact with him, just walked into the room and waited to see what would happen next. He heard Bull close the door and lock it behind him, and Dorian gulped involuntarily, feeling his heart jump around in his chest like a fish on dry land.

Bull didn't say anything, didn't make a move, and the silence stretched out between them, an endless ocean of currents that would drag him under, suffocating him until there was nothing left in his lungs and his life whittled away. Finally, Dorian couldn't take it anymore, his mind railing against the quiet like it was the bars for his prison. “You know, all those jokes you make when we are on the road are highly inappropriate.” he scoffed, keeping his voice haughty to keep any other emotion out of it. Any of the emotion that he wasn't comfortable showing, nothing but the finely crafted sense of disdain that he wielded so often.

“Is that so.” the Bull's voice was closer now, behind him, a summer storm rolling in. His tone had shifted, something dark and promising lurking beneath his words that made Dorian shiver.

“Indeed. I am afraid we're making our poor companions rather uncomfortable.” he went on, suppressing the desire to rant mindlessly while also trying to keep himself from turning around and flinging himself at Bull, cleaving to the man like he might be his only tie to reality, his only chance to feel real in this world that was rapidly becoming nonsensical.

“I doubt that.” Bull's voice thrummed right next to his ear. Dorian felt his knees go weak and thought he might pass out, his body trembling in reaction to what was happening. He moved away, quickly, unable to decide what to do with himself, unable to even decipher what he _wanted_ to do with himself. Everything inside him felt conflicted, and he couldn't tell which parts of him were honest and which parts were old defenses, built up over years of pain and abandonment, defenses that were so thick and so ingrained that they might never be torn down. He started towards the door, ready to leave in shame and embarrassment, utterly horrified that he had made such an ass of himself.

“Yes, well....in any case, you should stop.” he said lamely, trying to make a break for the exit. Escape, always his go to move, his favorite past time to avoid anything that might chip away at the walls around his heart. He didn't get far, however, before Bull grabbed his elbow lightly, keeping him from going any farther away. It was not a rough gesture, and he could have easily shaken him off and left anyways, but something about the way Bull's hand grasped him sent shivers down his spine. Dorian turned, a slow, deliberate twist of his neck, looking at Bull in the dim candlelight of the room. He was surprised to see that the expression on the big man's face was tender and warm, looking at Dorian expectantly, _wistfully_. Bull raised his hand and gently grazed a finger on Dorian's cheek, turning his head so that he had to meet the other man's eye, his touch light as a feather but coursing through Dorian like a thunderclap, an avalanche made of sensation roaring through his veins.

“Aren't you going to stay?” his voice was the whisper of silk against satin.

And that was all it took. All pretense and pride dissolving from him, Dorian threw himself into the tall man and kissed him deeply, kissed him as though his lips were the the rain and Dorian had been lying in the sun for a thousand years. Bull responded in turn, wrapping his arms around him, pulling him closer, strong hands gripping his shaking hips. They moved each other toward the bed, peeling layers of clothes off as they went. Bull laid him down on the covers, stroking him reverently, kissing him with fire and passion, churning up feelings that he didn't think himself capable of experiencing, not even in his youthful dreams. He could feel Bull's massive form against him as his legs were spread slowly, patiently, as though Bull feared the mage might flee at any moment, might disappear into the very air they breathed, a figment of his imagination. Bull climbed on top of him, trailing kisses across his neck and chest. Dorian' skin was flame and ice, racing with desire, and he let out a gasp as the man gradually entered him, exquisite pain mixed with euphoria rolling through to his very core.

Bull was far more gentle and tender than Dorian could have ever asked for. At first, he felt as though the greatly endowed man was going to tear him in two, but Bull was slow enough, reserved enough, that after awhile everything gave way to pleasure, heat taking them both away into blissful delirium as they moved together. Dorian had expected the experience to be raw desire and violent passion, a rushed drunken tumble that would be over too fast for him to regret it, but Bull was softer and more...loving, than he could have pictured in his wildest dreams. Attentive to his needs in a way none of his previous lovers had ever been. They made love several times, satisfying each other over and over, not seeming to be able to keep their hands off one another, never getting enough of the sweet release of finally being together. Their bodies had been starving for each other, every second that had been delaying this tryst wearing away at their souls until it threatened to destroy them, making every touch sweeter, more exalted than Dorian knew what to do with. Afterward they lay in bed, quietly drinking each other in, and Dorian knew that this had been more than he could have ever hoped for. Could have ever admitted that he hoped for. This had been everything he never knew he was missing in life, something a part of him that had needed to feel complete and real.

“Took you long enough.” Bull finally spoke, breaking the easy silence they had been enjoying as his fingers ran through Dorian's thoroughly mussed hair.

“I never knew you were interested!” Dorian cried, although he knew it was a lie before it ever left his lips. All those glances across the tavern, daring saves across a battlefield, light touches of their hands that were always an 'accident', always mumbled apologies afterward. That night at the ball, when Bull's eyes had whispered stories of what he wanted and Dorian had just walked away. He had known what was there, but had been too afraid to see it, too afraid of what he felt, too afraid that what was on the other end of that precarious thread was merely electricity, empty lust that would leave his heart in a million pieces and unravel him completely if he pulled it free.

“I noticed. I was getting ready to make a banner and start marching around with it.”

Dorian laughed, trailing his fingers up and down the firm abdomen of the man before him, relishing the feel of his taut skin, textured with scars. “That certainly would have gotten my attention. People should carry banners for me more often, actually.” Dorian smirked at him. “Although, honestly, I am surprised you were...interested....in my type. You seemed content with all those many, many, _many_ serving girls...” he trailed off with a sigh.

“Just because I can...” he paused, searching for words, “Enjoy an ale or two- ”

“Or eight...” Dorian mumbled under his breath.

“- doesn't mean I don't appreciate a fine wine when I see one.” he finished. Dorian' heart melted at the comparison. He didn't know what to say to that. Bull was full of surprises, apparently.

“It wasn't just the serving girls...or the chantry sisters...or the- well, you get the point.” Dorian waved dismissively. “You even seemed to have eyes for Autumn for awhile there, in the beginning. How am I supposed to compete with the likes of her? Especially when we...come in such different packages.” he looked into Bull's eyes questioningly. He would be lying if he said that it wasn't something that fueled his fears and doubts about the way he felt about Bull. Obviously it couldn't be serious, since she was off gallivanting with their strapping Commander, but that really only answered one side of the question. For all Dorian knew, Bull still held a torch for her and was settling for him as a consolation prize. After the amazing night that they just had he doubted it, but it wasn't outside the realm of possibility.

Bull shook his head. “Perhaps once I was interested in her...She is quite the woman.” Bull laughed as Dorian pouted, and the man gave him a reassuring kiss before he continued. “I did make a pass at her once. Told her she was gorgeous and gave her bedroom eyes...well, eye.” Dorian snorted at the ridiculous correction. “She looked at me for a moment, and I thought she might actually be going for it. Then she told me I was like the big brother she never had.” Bull smiled, shaking his head at the memory. While clearly he had been hoping for another answer, Dorian got the sense that he was touched by how Autumn did feel towards him, and wouldn't change how things were now.

“Ouch.” Dorian chuckled, feeling as though a response was needed.

“She never had eyes for _me_ , and I am not one to pine over things I can't have...usually.” he touched Dorian on the cheek lightly again. “There are occasionally exceptions I find worth...pursuing.”

The warmth and affection Dorian had received from Bull tonight shocked him to his very core. What he had expected to be a drunken night of ill advised pleasure at best, humiliation and rejection at worst, had turned into something much deeper, and he must admit that he was pleasantly surprised. He was also astonished to find that he actually cared for Bull in return, or rather he could finally admit it without panic crushing the air from his lungs. Lying there in the Qunari's arms, it was hard to deny that he wanted to stay there. He felt like he fit there, like it was someplace that he finally belonged, was finally cherished for exactly what he was.

Bull kissed him lightly on the lips, smirking at him as if reading his thoughts. “I'm glad you stayed.” was all he said, and then they snuggled together in companionable silence until they drifted off to sleep.

 


	78. Somewhere We Can't Follow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which letters are sent.

_Alistair,_

_It's been awhile, my friend. I know we've both been busy, but I feel like we haven't been keeping up as much as we should have. Did you know I heard from Zev recently? He did some work for the Inquisition. Apparently he was the one who trained our Inquisitor. It was quite the entertaining story! I will have to tell it to you next time we see each other._

_Morrigan is here. She arrived yesterday, and she'll be working with the Inquisition for the foreseeable future. We got a chance to chat and catch up, which was nice. Odd, but nice. She misses everyone, if you can believe that (I know you don't, but it's true I swear!). I had to tell her about Wynne, she hadn't heard yet. She was sad that she missed the funeral, just like you and Melody were. I told her we spread extra flowers over the marker for everyone who couldn't be there, and she seemed to appreciate it. She's...different now, although sitting and talking with her makes it hard to believe that it's really been over ten years since we last saw each other._

_I miss Melody. I know you do too, but Maker Alistair I feel like...like she went somewhere we can't follow, and sometimes that hurts so much I can hardly stand it. Do you remember that night that Oghren dared her to drink that entire bottle of dwarven “brandy”? And she got so drunk that she fell into the ravine in the middle of that wretched song and smashed my lute! And Morrigan laughed so hard that Xander thought she was dying and started jumping all over her and licking her face, but she was laughing too hard to care! Then when we rescued Melody from the ravine she just kept looking at the lute with that sad face and trying to play before she tossed it to Wynne and demanded that she “heal” it. Morrigan said she had forgotten about that, but she laughed all over again when I told it, so I thought you might appreciate remembering it as well. I find that when I miss her the most, if I think about that night I feel like she's closer._ (the parchment here has a couple of blots of ink, and looks as though it might have been wet at some point)

_When Melody gets back we should all have a reunion. Before we lose anyone else._

_I don't know if I should tell you, or if you even want to know, but his name is Kieran. He's really smart, and has a very cute sense of humor. He seems happy. She is a really good mother to him._

_If you hear from Mel, give her my love, and please tell her to stay safe. As safe as she can, at any rate._

_Love,_

_Leliana_

_****** _

_Bianca,_

_I haven't forgiven you for the stunt you pulled, but our Arcanist needs your notes on all the red lyrium studies you did. Don't even try to give me any crap about how you don't want to share your work either. You owe the Inquisitor after what happened. You owe ME too, but I'm not cashing in that favor yet. We need everything you have to help fix this Maker damned mess and I expect you to send it without any complaints._

_-Varric_

_**_

_Inquisitor,_

_Okay so maybe that didn't go so well...I know sometimes I talk too fast and don't make sense, but I thought hey, maybe I could give you some notes to make it sound more...well, sensible I suppose!_

_I wrote down everything I know about lyrium and red lyrium and how we should never use it to make hats (you remember when I talked about the hats, right?). I tried to make it as clear as I could. I'll know more when I get the notes from Varric's friend, but for now this should get you started so we'll all be on the same page!_

_Let me know if you have questions, or if it doesn't make sense, or if you need more, or if you just want to talk about it...you know what, just let me know as soon as you've read them and we'll go from there!_

_I gave copies of the notes to the rest of the war council as well. And Morrigan, because she asked. Did you know I used to know her? She used to answer like, so many of my questions! You probably didn't need to know about that though. Sorry!_

_Talk to you soon Inquisitor!_

_-Arcanist Dagna_

_**_

_Seeker,_

_You're not leaving for Val Royeaux, are you?_

_-Varric_

 

_Varric,_

_Why would I be leaving? Did you defeat Corypheus without telling me?_

_-Cassandra_

 

_Seeker,_

_Did you just...make a joke?_

_-Varric_

 

_Varric,_

_Clearly not._

_-Cassandra_

 

_Seeker,_

_Anyways, you aren't..._ (several lines are written and then scribbled over to the point of being illegible) _I thought they wanted you to become divine._

_-Varric_

 

_Varric,_

_They are also considering Leliana._

_-Cassandra_

 

_Seeker,_

_So...you're not going then?_

_-Varric_

 

_Varric,_

_No, I'm not intending to go anywhere. We still have much to do with the Inquisition, and I don't think I would be the right choice for Divine. Does that satisfy your curiosity?_

_-Cassandra_

 

_Seeker_ (this has been crossed out)

_Cass,_

_Yes, thank you. I'm glad you aren't bailing on us._

_-Varric_

_**_

_Cullen,_

_Okay, I know you're busy and you said you weren't going to be by until later tonight, buts that's why I'm leaving you this note instead of tracking you down because I just saw Dorian and Bull making out and I have to tell SOMEONE. WHAT IS HAPPENING._

_-Autumn_

 

_Autumn,_

_Well it's about time. Maybe now Dorian will stop sending me all those notes about...you know what, forget about that. Pretend I didn't mention it, I don't have time to start this note over. Also don't send a reply, we'll talk about it later. Maker knows the messengers around her get abused enough by Varric, they don't need us adding to the mix._

_-Cullen_

_**_

_Dorian,_

(there is a drawing of a man wearing a dress sitting on top of a circle with horns that _could_ be a representation of a Qunari. Several lewd drawings of male genitalia grace different parts of the page, along with several hearts, some of which are heart shaped butts)

_Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha_

_-Sera_

 

_Sera,_

_Andraste's ass, is that supposed to be me? I don't wear a dress. And what is the rest of that garbage even supposed to be? How is it you're artistic abilities are actually getting WORSE?_

_-Dorian_

 

_Dorian,_

_Get bent!_

_-Sera (_ Sera has drawn her name in giant bubble letters several times)

_**_

_Inquisitor,_

_I know you're still angry. You have every right to be...but I want you to know that I appreciate what you did for me. You didn't have to get me out of that cell, and you certainly didn't have to give me another chance after what I did. I respect your decision to send me to the Wardens when all this is over. I think...I think this is what I was meant to do, and I think becoming a Warden is a part of that. So thank you. I hope that someday you can forgive me for what I did._

_Sincerely,_

_Thom Rainier._

 

_Thom_ (this word is crossed out forcibly and replaced)

_Blackwall,_

_I'm still going to call you Blackwall, because that's how I know you and I can't fucking wrap my head around the other name._

_Yes, I'm still fucking pissed. You lied to me, you lied to the Inquisition...do you have ANY idea how much damage your fucking stunt could have caused? You had every opportunity to come clean before this but you kept it hidden. We could have helped you, you assface._

_When I stop feeling like I need to punch your stupid, beardy face, I'll come talk to you._

_But aside from all that you should know you did a good thing, standing up for your man like that, and I think you still have it in you to be a good man, which is why I sent you to the wardens. The original Blackwall saw something in you and wanted you to be a part of that, and I'm going to respect what amounts to his last wishes on the matter. You bleed for the Inquisition all the time, and I respect every one of our men that have done that. Even stupid bearded idiots._

_Just don't fucking talk to me until I calm down unless you want a black eye._

_-Autumn_

_**_

_V.,_

_We've reached Weisshaupt. Things are okay so far, but everyone here seems a bit...off somehow. So far no one recognizes A., so I think we're gonna be safe. We're meeting with some of the Warden Commanders soon, though. I'll write again and let you know how everything goes._

_-L._

 


	79. And When he Awoke he Died, a Little More Each Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we have a meeting with Dagna and Solas has been having dreams he can't seem to help.

Autumn sipped judiciously at her mug of tea, enjoying the bracing heat as they all waited for Dagna to finish setting her bundle of notes down on the table. It was a big morning. Dagna had apparently had some kind of breakthrough after receiving the research from Bianca, and would be debriefing them on her findings as well as her solution to the Samson armor problem. Morrigan was there as well, ready to discuss with them what exactly she had planned. Autumn knew Leliana had _something_ big to uncover also, so it was shaping up to be an unusually long meeting. Josephine had the foresight to bring in fresh tea for everyone, which was a Maker sent miracle because Autumn felt like she hadn't slept at all the night before, pouring over the primer Dagna had sent in an effort to understand what the Arcanist was going to tell them. Sometimes it boggled her mind that all of that information came out of Dagna, who really didn't seem the bookish type at first glance. It was amazing that such a brilliant mind could come in such a small, cheerful package.

“Good morning!” Dagna chirped, the epitome of over exuberance.

“Good morning, Arcanist Dagna.” Josephine replied primly, checking something off on her clipboard. Autumn sometimes wondered if she just played her own games on it rather than taking notes like they all assumed. Perhaps she gave herself points for every prediction she got right, and Dagna's overly bright greeting was another win. It was unlikely, but then again Autumn wouldn't put it past the diplomat, either. She would have to take a peak at that board one of these days to satisfy her curiosity.

“So, did everybody read the notes? I know not everybody had time to stop by and discuss them at length, but I'm trusting you all did your homework anyways!” she gave them a grin that could have put the sun to shame.

“I read them. I can't say I _like_ what I read, but I certainly read them.” Cullen groused. Autumn spared him a small smile. He had ranted for over an hour about the horrors of the fact that lyrium was _alive_ , railing against the chantry for its use of lyrium with the templars and how he couldn't believe that he had taken it. It had taken her forever to convince him that it wasn't as though lyrium was a sentient being that they had harmed. Trees were technically alive too, and they hardly spared such vehemence over the chairs they sat in. Although the fact that lyrium could become infected with the blight and not did did make it unique, and she certainly found the idea of it being alive in any way disconcerting.

“Okay, fantastic!” Dagna clapped her hands together, taking a deep breath. “So, I went over all the schematics, and I think I can see where this Maddox was coming from. Crafting regular lyrium isn't like normal metalworking, which makes so much more sense now that we know it's alive. Maddox didn't know that part, but he did know a lot about working with lyrium. His research is amazing! He went through so many different iterations of technique before realizing you just couldn't treat red lyrium like the regular stuff. The experiments he did were so clever! Although maybe just a little bit creepy, and incredibly wrong as far as moral standards go...”

Leliana cleared her throat, an eyebrow raised as she smirked. “Dagna, focus.”

“Right, sorry. This is all pretty groundbreaking...anyways....where was I?” she shuffled through her notes, little brow furrowed for a moment before she found what she wanted. “Ah, yes! So, he manufactured those tools to be able to work the red lyrium, because otherwise the substance sort of...dies after it's used, for lack of a better term, and the effects would wear off. Now, the tools you brought me were pretty much destroyed, so I wouldn't be able to use them to work the red lyrium like Maddox did -”

“Thank the Maker.” Cullen muttered.

“- but I _was_ able to use them to make a rune that _should_ function to unmake the armor that the tools made.” with a flourish she pulled out a small red disk, handing it over to Autumn who turned it over in her hands. She could feel a slight tingle wherever her fingers touched the metal.

“So what does this do?” Autumn passed the rune around so the others could examine it.

“Theoretically, if you smash the rune within a near enough proximity of the armor, the red lyrium in the armor should react to the...you know, let's just say his armor will blow up.” she concluded.

“What do you mean, theoretically?” Cullen asked dubiously.

“Well, it's not like I have diabolical suits of armor just laying around to test it on. Plus I only had the one set of tools to make this, so it's got one shot.” Dagna hedged.

“And what will happen if your theory is incorrect?” Josephine's eyes were wide as she held the unassuming looking object.

“Er, probably nothing. Maybe. Or everyone gets turned to paste, but that's unlikely. Like, only a one or two percent chance.” Dagna gave them all a reassuring smile.

“Ah, good. So the breadth of possibilities are success, failure, or paste.” Autumn smirked as Cullen cast her a disparaging look.

“Tis better than no possibilities, Inquisitor.” Morrigan added, her smirk matching her own.

Cullen groaned. “Why am I surrounded by women who have no appreciation of danger?”

“Hush. You're just here to look pretty.” Leliana told him, hiding her laughter behind a sip of her tea.

“Do you have anything else to share Dagna?” Josephine scratched something else on her clipboard, ignoring the glare Cullen passed around the room.

“Only that I would like to request more resources to continue my research. I have a feeling that learning as much as we can about red lyrium and the new aspects of lyrium that we've discovered might come in handy someday.”

Autumn didn’t even need to think about her options for that request. “Approved. Leliana, will you make sure Dagna gets everything she needs?”

“Absolutely, Inquisitor.” Leliana bowed politely.

“I would just like to make it known that I do not entirely approve of researching dangerous magical substances underneath our stronghold.” Cullen threw out, although he seemed to know that his caution would not be heeded. He knew by now Autumn's curiosity was stronger than her sense of self preservation.

“You are far prettier with your mouth closed, Commander.” Morrigan purred, playing off Leliana's earlier jibe and laughing when Cullen flushed and scowled.

“Ladies, please refrain from tormenting the leader of my armies.” Autumn warned them, sipping her tea and avoiding Cullen's gaze for fear she might dissolve into giggles at his pique.

“As you wish, oh illustrious leader.” Morrigan quipped. Autumn was quickly becoming fond of the witch and her sharp sense of humor.

Autumn cleared her throat pointedly, deciding that it was best to move the conversation back to business as Dagna gathered her things and quietly bounced out of the room. “Morrigan, I believe you had something to share about what you believe Corypheus is up to?”

“Yes, Inquisitor. Are you familiar with what an eluvian is?”

“Should I be?” she finished her cup of tea, setting it down on the war table gently before regarding Morrigan with curiosity.

“Perhaps not before, but you certainly should be now. Tis better to show you than tell, however. Would you accompany me to the garden, Inquisitor?” she gestured towards the door.

“Will this take long? I believe Leliana has something to report before we can adjourn the meeting.”

“We will return momentarily, you need not dismiss everyone as of yet.” Morrigan smiled.

Autumn gave a rueful shrug. “Very well, we'll be back I guess.”

She followed Morrigan out the door and down the hall, making their way towards the garden and whatever it was she needed to see.

***

They'd made their plans. She'd gone through the eluvian and seen that silvery space tucked in between time and reality, she'd heard Leliana's information about where Corypheus was headed, she'd prevented the argument between her advisors over the course of action by deciding on a plan of action for them. Their scouts and spies had already been notified, were already heading to the Arbor wilds, and their armies would begin the process of getting ready starting tomorrow. They would have a few weeks while they prepared, a time that she would be spending with the Avvar in the Frostback Basin, but after that they would march and she would finally track down the last of Corypheus' army and smash it into as many pieces as she could.

Cullen's arm was draped over her, resting peacefully in the bed next to her, his skin bathing her in warmth beneath the covers they shared. His hair was curled and plastered around his face, still damp from their exertions earlier. Even as the sight of him filled her with happiness and a smile worked its way across her face, she couldn't help the knot in her stomach, a solid ball of worry over what would happen if she couldn't make it through all this. Worry over what that might do to this perfect man at her side.

As her eyes drifted closed, sleep finally overtaking her, she willed herself not to think about it. She would not let her resolve slip, not yet. She had the most powerful army in Thedas backing her, and she would not let worry keep her from completing this mission.

Autumn drifted into a dreamless sleep, the blackness a soothing balm over her terror filled heart.

*******

He watched her descend down the stairs, one step at a time, her dark satin gown trailing behind her, the same one she had worn so elegantly at the Winter Palace. She was always the most beautiful thing to him, stealing his breath away no matter how many times he saw her this way. His heart always broke over the way her green eyes shone with light, brighter than any star. She could light the world with her gaze, light his way through the darkness, and never know the effect she had.

Her hair was softly curled about her face, small silver flowers woven amongst the strands. That much was new, a detail added by one of them, although which he couldn't say. The rest of her was the same, the same magnificent beauty that he had memorized that agonizing night. Always, always she turned to see him and give him that radiant smile that was only his here, only in this place built within their dreams.

Picking up her skirts, Autumn took the steps faster now, racing down into the moonlit clearing to join him at his side. Her arms were around him, pulling him to her with gentle grace. She turned her head up to meet his eyes, the smile dancing on her lips meaning more to him than all the years of his people's lost history. Tilting his head, he brought his lips to hers, gently indulging in her love, showering her with the feelings that tore him asunder everyday, showing her in the only way that he was able. She sighed against him, wrapping herself closer in his arms, her body softer against his than he would have thought anything could be. Every place their skin touched was electric, alighting him with a strength more powerful than the strongest magics, sending shivers across his body that he could not control and did not want to.

It was not her. Not truly. Whatever part of her found her way here did not remember when she awoke, no recognition in her eyes when she met him in the halls. She was not his in the waking world, could never be. He knew that, could never forget that. It was tattooed into the scars of his soul, a truth he could not hide from no matter how desperately he may wish it.

“My love.” she murmured, allowing him to twine his fingers into her hair, pulling them through the soft tresses and watching the curls bounce back into place.

“Ma vhenan.” he trailed his kisses down the side of her jaw. Her green eyes fluttered closed, sighing with contentment, her body pliant under his ministrations. He buried his face into the side of her neck, reverently worshiping her with his lips as his blood sang her praises with every beat of his pulse.

Every night she came to him, and in that time she was his. No matter how many times it broke his heart to wake up again, somehow he did, and somehow he always found his way back here when his eyes closed again. The only place his love for her could be free, Solas indulged himself, in this one thing, because he could not bear the thought of losing it. She was his everything, and she would never know, except for here. Solas loved her every night in the fade, and when he awoke he died, a little more each time.

 


	80. UnBEARable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which more letters, I hope it's what you wanted.

_Leliana,_

_It was nice to hear from you. You're right, we should definitely get in touch more often, when we aren't so busy spying for Inquisition's and running kingdoms and whatnot._

_I can't believe you got to hear from Zev! I am green with envy. Not literally of course, but there's a blood mage running around my castle right now so maybe it could be arranged if you really want (don't worry, she's a nice blood mage. Is that as weird as it sounds in my head?). Anyways, it feels like it's been ages since Zev hit on Melody just to piss me off. Last I heard he was running around the Free Marches causing all kinds of trouble. Isn't your Inquisitor a Marcher? Explains how they must have met I guess._

_You make it sound like you sat down and had a lovely chat with Morrigan over tea. I would say I can almost picture it, but unless it was a tea party with like, evil skulls all over the place I just can't see it. Was there a seance? Did you summon evil spirits to serve the refreshments? (I am kidding, in case my ink doesn't look sarcastic enough)._

_I don't buy for a minute that she misses me. Maybe everyone else, probably Melody, but definitely not ME. I'm going to write her a letter after I finish this one, just to make her angry, so you don't have to tell her I said hello because I'll do it myself. Although you SHOULD tell Zev I said hi if you hear from him again. Thanks for telling her about Wynne, though. That wasn't easy for any of us. It STILL isn't easy. I keep picturing her out there somewhere giving motherly lectures to other Grey Wardens who are falling in love at inopportune times. It's hard to believe that she isn't._

_Thank you for reminding me of that night. I had almost forgotten, and it gave me a good laugh to recall how pitiful she'd looked at the bottom of the ravine, begging Morrigan to stop laughing and “magic” her back out, even though Wynne kept shouting that isn't how magic works. Do you remember we had to tie that rope around Shale for her to climb out, but she kept falling and I had to climb down and carry her out? She spent the whole way up clinging to my back and whispering all this nonsense she thought was “naughty” but was really just ridiculous because her drunken mind kept spinning off onto tangents. She did a whole bit about how she would get Sten to bake me cookies if I was “nice”. I STILL make fun of her for that._

_I miss her desperately. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and I forget she's not there. It hurts to roll over and find the bed empty and cold. I'm always a few seconds away from just getting up and sneaking out of the castle to go chase after her. If I weren't so sure she'd kill me for abandoning our kingdom I would do it. I miss BOTH of them that way, although you probably wouldn’t understand._

_A reunion sounds nice. I would like that, and I know she would too. Although how we're going to get Sten here is beyond me. Maybe the Inquisitor can get us an audience with him? Just remember not to call him Sten to his face anymore, he's not particularly fond of the name now that he's Arishok. I learned that the hard way._

_Thank you for telling me about Kieran. I don't really know what to say, but thanks all the same. I wish…_ (there are several partially started lines before he appears to give up) _You know what I wish. I don’t need to tell you why it hurts._

_Stay safe. Keep your Inquisitor and Varric alive, and give Cullen a hug for me, he probably needs it._

_Love,_

_Your favorite King,_

_Alistair_

_**_

_Morrigan,_

_Leliana told me you were at Skyhold. That feels so close. It’s strange to know where you are, and not be able to see you._

_I hope everything is going well for you. I am writing that completely seriously, by the way, I promise. I really do hope things are good._

_I'm sorry you had to hear about Wynne so late. I know it hurt like nothing else when we found out, so if it was even half as hard for you, then you have my sympathies._

_Leliana told me about Kieran. She told me you're a good mother. I know this is gonna be really weird coming from me, but I never really doubted you would be. I'm glad that he's happy. I hope you're happy, too. We never..._ (several things are scratched out here) _neither Melody or I ever changed how we felt about you, I hope you know that. There was always a piece of us missing after you left. I know you felt it too, and I hate to think that you had to face it alone. We had each other, but I’m not sure how you able to get through it. I wish that we could have been there for you, too._

_If you ever need a place for you OR Kieran to come and be safe, you will always find it in Denerim. I probably didn’t need to tell you that, but there you go, just in case._

_Melody wanted you to know she appreciated the gift you gave her as well. It hasn't been able to help us yet, but I'm sure you know she's out there right now trying to make use of it. She misses you. She missed you before she left and I'm sure she misses you wherever she is now. I know she would want you to know that. Nobody else ever complained about her decisions quite the way you did. Besides, I was apparently incorrigibly without you there to keep me in line._

_Keep Leliana from getting into any more trouble, she seems to seek it out as much as Melody always did. What is it with red headed rogues, anyways? They all seem completely crazy. I guess the rest of us just have to work harder to keep them safe._

_Stay safe Morrigan, and I hope I'll get a chance to see you again someday after Melody returns._

_Love,_

_Alistair_

_**_

_Autumn,_

_First of all, I'm very relieved to hear you defeated the god-dragon in the Basin. I wish you had maybe thought to wait for reinforcements first, but you're alive so I won't lecture you for too long when you return._

_Second: You recruited a bear. A bear! What am I supposed to do with a bear?_

_-Cullen_

 

_Cullen,_

_It's a MAGICAL bear, and her name is Storvacker, thank you very much. Also, she's an important figure to the Avvar, couldn't we use her to recruit more Avvar to the cause? You're creative, figure it out! I'm sure you can BEAR it!_

_-Autumn_

 

_Autumn,_

_That was awful. Please don't make anymore puns._

_-Cullen_

 

_Cullen,_

_Would you say I'm...unBEARable? That would be such a GRIZZLY proposition._

_-Autumn_

 

_Autumn,_

_I've instructed the scouts not to accept anymore of your letters, as I have officially revoked your writing privileges for now. All correspondence is going to go through Bull for the foreseeable future. Now get home safe so I can properly punish you for such a monstrous abuse of language._

_-Cullen_

_**_

_Varric,_

_I don't know how you found it but give it back._

_-Cassandra_

 

_Seeker,_

_I don't know what you're talking about._

_-Varric_

 

_Varric,_

_You know what I'm talking about! Do not play coy with me. You've had your fun, now return it._

_-Cassandra_

 

_Seeker,_

_You're going to have to be more specific, because I really don't know what you're talking about._

_-Varric_

_**_

_Autumn,_

_So apparently Sera snuck into Cassandra's room while she was gone and stole that story she wrote about Varric's characters. Cass blamed Varric, and when he told her he didn't know what she was talking about she kind of exploded and nearly murdered him in the tavern. Sera eventually came clean, but I'm pretty sure half the bar has been destroyed. I didn't even know somebody could make a chair explode with just their fist! It was pretty awesome, but don't tell her I said that. Anyways, Cabot is gonna send Cass a bill for the damages, so you might want to give her a heads up and keep her from going on another rampage._

_And that's the story of why Varric won't come out of hiding and Cass isn't speaking to anybody._

_-Bull_

 

_Bull,_

_Sheesh! Thanks for the clarification. I'll take care of it._

_-Autumn_

_**_

_Sera,_

_I'm giving this to you in writing so you can't pretend you forgot later: you are not allowed to steal, borrow, or “misplace” anything belonging to members of the Inquisition. Next time you do, Vivienne is going to be permitted to replace your entire wardrobe._

_-Autumn_

_**_

_Varric,_

_I'm sorry I didn't believe you._

_-Cassandra_

 

_Varric,_

_I mean it, I really am sorry. I didn't mean what I said. You don't have to keep hiding._

_-Cassandra_

_**_

_Varric,_

_Will you just talk to her already? She DID say she was sorry, didn't she? Put her out of her misery._

_-Autumn_

 

_Autumn,_

_She said she hated me, that everything out of my mouth was a lie, and that she wished I had just left the Inquisition with Hawke. I know when I'm not wanted, and now that I know how she really feels I'll just keep my distance from here on out._

_-Varric_

_**_

_Varric,_

_I wish there was a way to prove I really didn't mean what I said._ (several lines are written and scribbled out to the point of being illegible) _I'm glad you stayed with the Inquisition in the beginning, and I'm glad you stayed even after Hawke left. You're an honorable man, and I should have believed you when you said it wasn't you._

_I know I promised to let you read it eventually, so here it is. If you can't forgive me, I understand._

_I'm so sorry._

_-Cassandra_

 

_Cass,_

_Wow, this is...well it's SOMETHING. Writing really isn't your strong suit, is it?_

_I'm keeping this forever, just so you know._

_-Varric_

 

_Varric,_

_Thank you. For talking to me again._

_-Cassandra_

 

_Cass,_

_Anytime._

_-Varric_

 


	81. She Would Become the Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we march to the Arbor Wilds.

It was impressive to see the bulk of her army at work.

Autumn hadn't been in the field with such a large force since the assault on Adamant, and their numbers now put that battle to shame. All of their allies had been called upon, and the sheer number of men and women that had marched with them into the Arbor Wilds was mind boggling. It filled her with a sense of fierce pride, a swell of emotion that she had no way to describe as it lifted her spirits and carried her forward. This is what they had worked so hard for, this is what they had set out to accomplish since the beginning. The Inquisition had started as a broken little group of people staring up at the breach and praying they could make a difference, and through blood, sweat, tears, and miracles, they had clawed their way through a thousand things standing in their way to build something that made a difference in the world. Every one of the people marching under her banner was a good person she was proud to stand beside. She'd issued the call when she'd taken that sword in her hand that day in the courtyard, and pledged to fight for what was right. She'd told the world exactly what they stood for and what they would do, and every soul believing the world could be better, believing that the wars that tore them apart could be won and the injustices that plagued them could be righted, all those people had rallied behind her. It was not surprising, watching her people march, to realize that she loved them. She loved every person who stood with them, whether next to her or behind or or even in front as her guard, she loved them all for their bravery, their courage, and the brilliant truth in their hearts and minds.

The march was long. The Arbor wilds were not close to Skyhold, and moving forces of this magnitude took time, but her people had kept up their spirits the whole way through. She moved through them on the journey, talking to those she could, asking after as many people as she could manage and trying to memorize their faces so that all those who wouldn't come out on the other side of this would be remembered by her. They watched her avidly, eyes shining with pride just for being allowed to serve her. It was humbling, and did more to steel her heart towards victory than anything else that had happened yet. She kept pace with her men, with Cullen in his brilliant armor and lion helm, a figurehead for her forces that looked formidable and proud, a perfect representation of his honesty, his power, his bravery. She loved him for more than just who he was now, loved him for both his whispered words in the bedroom and for his symbolism to their troops. He held her together in the quiet nights, when she took off her mantle of responsibilities and became just a person, cold in the face of the winds of change she brought wherever she went. More than that, though, he held together their forces. He treated them like people, was fair and just, and was more than a little responsible for the loyalty their army showed. Her people loved her, and she had earned it with her blood countless times, and her people loved him, because he'd earned it with his nature. Cullen held them all together, one way or another, and all of their hearts felt steadied to see him leading the charge in this final push towards victory.

There was a moment that seemed to solidify their passions for the cause during the march, a moment that Autumn would never be able to forget for as long as she lived. It was early morning, the makeshift camps already packed up as they surged forward, feet trampling the ground below and pounding it flat in the pale dawn light. The quiet had seemed oppressive, like a pall thrown over them all so that Autumn had felt her nerves start to prickle, worry worming its way into her heart that she could not shake of her own will. Then Leliana had started singing, her soprano voice cutting into the air and carrying far, soaring over them like the call of a bird as it gracefully kissed the sky. It was a song Autumn remembered well, a song she could never forget, the same haunting tune the people of Haven had carried after she'd been brought back from the brink yet again on that forlorn mountainside. Then, as if the people knew that she needed the reminder, as if they recognized the moment for the weight it could carry, another voice lifted in song. Then another. Autumn closed her eyes and let the tears cover her face as countless voices sang words of encouragement, that even in the darkest of times the light would shine through. They sang and she knew, they all knew, that against this darkness before them she would become the dawn they so desperately needed. She had joined them, this time, adding her own alto harmonies to theirs, becoming one with them alongside her inner circle. Not a single person was silent that morning, as they marched and they sang, and they felt reinvigorated, sure that whatever benevolent forces existed in this world were on their side, and would carry them home.

The march had seemed easier after that, even a little faster. Now that they had reached their destination, Autumn could still feel the reassurance pumping through her veins as she readied to join them all in battle. Smoke hung heavy in the air, swirling through the verdant forest around them and driving the wildlife away from the battles. She could hear explosions, the clanging of metal on metal and the sizzling pop of spells all around as her forces already engaged with the red templars lurking in the area. She didn't bother with any rousing speeches for her strike team. Every member of the inner circle, aside from her advisors, they already knew what was at stake and they already knew how she felt. They didn't need a bunch of pretty words to stir their hearts, they were already in this as much as they could be, as much as she was, and they would give their all without her ever having to ask.

They poured themselves into the battle like molten iron dripping into a mold, filling all the spaces her forces couldn't reach and leaving the red templars no quarter to hide in. Everywhere they went they backed up the standard troops, making their way towards the Temple through the chaos, making sure to take out as many of the enemy as possible with every step. It could have been minutes or it could have been hours by the time they made their way around the bend, splashing through the river to engage the templars surrounding Cullen and a few of his lieutenants.

“Keep going, I'll be fine!” he shouted to her as he bashed a red templar with his shield, shattering pieces of red lyrium off of the creature's arm to splatter in the rushing water below.

She wanted to laugh, and indeed she might have as she drove one of he daggers into the grey mottled skin of one of the beasts that were once men. “You didn't think that was actually going to work, did you?” she called, spinning her blade across the throat of another shapeless, spiked red mass.

She caught his fierce grin over the edge of his shield before she had to turn away to parry. “Not really, but it was worth a shot!” he called, and she heard the death knell of the creature he'd been facing. Chuckles carried low under the sounds of fighting as the others laughed at their leaders exchange.

The melee was over almost before it started, her team wiping out the small force efficiently, giving them a reprieve. The temple doors were just up a set of ruined stairs, within sight at last. She sloshed her way over to her Commander, and heedless of the fact they were surrounded by battle and disaster, he yanked her roughly into an intense kiss, his lips imparting a thousand things he'd said before but couldn't tell her now. She returned it, giving herself to him as much as she could in this moment, her lips speaking volumes in their heated silence.

He pulled back first, giving her space as they both caught their breath, driven out of them by the fight as much as the kiss. “See you on the other side, Commander.” she grinned broadly as her adrenaline sang in her head.

“Make them hurt, love.” he commanded, his own smile burning into her like magefire. There were no tender whispers of fear for them now. All their doubts had been left behind in their bedrolls, in the nights on the road where they'd shared their fears and comforted one another without the watchful eyes of the men and women they needed to inspire. Here there was only confidence, only surety. She would succeed, he would prevail, and they would see each other at the end of the day. That was all that they had room for in their minds today, the only outcome they would accept.

They released each other and she raced towards the temple, eyes forward and never looking back. This was her moment, and she didn't need to look behind her to know she had the support of the ones she loved to keep her from erring off her path.

*******

“Hold!” Autumn held up her fist to halt her companions before they all barreled into the clearing beyond the next archway. She could hear sounds from up ahead, and they would be better served with a careful approach rather than jumping mindlessly into the fray. If Corypheus was there, they should take caution where they could, as any advantage could make all the difference. They stuttered to a halt and she met each of their eyes, communicating silently her intentions. Nods all around assured her that her message had been received.

They crept as much into the room as they could, crowding under the shadows that the railing on a balcony provided, and peered over the edge. Below the ground was littered with bodies, a few red templar mixed with the contorted corpses of what appeared to be elves in golden armor, several living templars standing sentinel over the massacre.

She glanced back at Solas just as he was looking to her, their eyes meeting as they shared worried expressions. What exactly were elves doing here? Was this temple occupied?

“They still think to fight us, Master. They must be even dumber than they look.” Samson's greasy voice filled her ears, snapping her attention back to the moment at hand. Just below them, close enough to reach out and touch, stood Samson and Corypheus, facing off against a collection of elves at the edge of the bridge across from them.

Corypheus strode forward, the tatters of his robes whispering together as he moved, a sound that reminded Autumn of things lurking in the dark, eyes watching the unwary that could never be seen but were always felt in the shadows of night, waiting to spring traps of untold horrors imagined in the deepest depths of despair. “The remnants matter little. The Well of Sorrows will be ours for the taking.” his dark voice rumbled through her, rattling her bones beneath her tensed muscles. She shuddered involuntarily, her eyes wanting to close to avoid looking at the scene, to blot out the terror Corypheus inspired within her. To blot out the flashbacks to the pain in her ribs as the fires of Haven filled her nostrils with ash. She held her breath and willed her courage to remain, willed herself to remember her purpose and her resolve. He would not best her by fear alone, she would be sure of it.

“What's the Well of Sorrows?” she whispered to Morrigan, focusing her brain on something pragmatic, keeping her voice as low as possible so they wouldn't be detected. Morrigan simply looked at her and shrugged, shaking her head in confusion.

Corypheus moved towards the elves, the foremost of them taking a small step backwards from the approaching darkspawn. The elven man shouted something at him in elven, finding his courage and standing tall before the monster that threatened him, and Autumn felt a twinge of pride for the warrior. Before she could think to react or help, Corypheus’ arm shot out, grabbing the man by the throat. Magical energy surged out of two columns on either side of the bridge, engulfing both Corypheus and the elf in a sizzling light. The smell of burning flesh and charred leather filled the air, making her stomach roll in revolt. The other elves on the bridge took off running, crossing into the depths of the temple as the light in the area became blinding. For a second, Autumn had to cover her eyes and shield herself from the searing heat that filled the air, and then there was a loud crackling sound before something exploded loudly, showering them in dust and debris. When she looked back there was nothing left of the elf or Corypheus, other than a steaming pile of ashes, and Samson and the other templars were halfway across the bridge to the inner temple. She waited until they passed into the shadows of the doorway beyond before vaulting over the railing and onto the floor below. She approached the steaming remnants of Corypheus and looked at it, stunned.

“Did crazy elven magic really just do my job for me?” she asked incredulously.

“Were it so easy I think the wardens would have managed long before now, yes?” Morrigan replied as her eyes scanned the area warily.

“Well, he looks even _more_ dead than when Hawke was done with him, which I wouldn't have said was possible until now.” Varric said.

“Something's not right. If he's dead, why'd Samson skip off merrily like he was headed for afternoon tea?” Bull added.

“Maybe it has something to do with that Well of Sorrows he mentioned?” Dorian's lip was curled in disgust as he looked at the pile of goo where Corypheus had been.

“There are a lot more unanswered questions here than I'm comfortable with.” Autumn scowled. “I thought -” her words stopped short on her tongue as they all became aware of a strange bubbling, hissing sound coming from one of the bodies prone on the floor. A warden, one of those still enslaved after Adamant she assumed, let out a strange groaning sound. Autumn moved forward to try and help them, but Solas grabbed her elbow, yanking her back harshly. Her indignant reply died before she could voice it when the warden's body snapped erect, skin distorting as it morphed into something monstrous. It only took a few more seconds before the misshapen flesh started shifting into the recognizable form of the darkspawn Magister. Corypheus was rising before them, eyes glowing threateningly and a snarl in his throat. A screech tearing across the sky alerted them to the arrival of the archdemon.

“MOVE!” Autumn screamed, turning and dragging Solas along with her as her feet pounded onto the bridge. She heard the earsplitting shriek closer behind them and redoubled her efforts, working her legs as hard as she could to reach the temple.

She passed through the archway and was nearly sent sprawling onto the ground as she changed her direction, turning around to grab the large doors that lay open on either side of the opening. She grabbed the edge of the metal as Solas and Morrigan joined her, and just as the last of her group bolted through the opening they began to push it closed, people taking up positions on both sides of the massive frame. Working as a team, they managed to shut the door just as the dragon's hot breath scorched the air, most of the blast pelting harmlessly against the other side. A strong magical seal slid over the surface, rippling as it met in the middle and provided them temporary safety by cutting off Corypheus’ entrance.Cassandra let out an agonized cry as some of the glass-like shards of lyrium dug into her arm, letting go of the door to grab the injury and grit her teeth. Vivienne was next to her in a heartbeat, a healing spell cascading over the wound and easing her pain.

Autumn wiped the sweat off her brow, mind reeling. “What the _fuck_?” she asked no one in particular. Her heart thundered in her chest as she tried to piece together all the different parts of _wrong_ that they had just been witness to.

“So, did we know he could do that? Because that definitely seemed new.” Varric asked as he helped check over Cassandra and the others to ensure there were no other injuries.

“Shite. Fuck shite balls shite. He just friggin’ comes _back_? What do we even do with that?” Sera's voice was a shrill edge against Autumn's nerves.

“Perhaps that is why the wardens had him imprisoned, rather than kill him themselves.” Solas said calmly, although he appeared to be paler than usual, the only evidence that he was as shaken as the rest of them.

“That would explain much.” Morrigan agreed.

“We can discuss what he did and how he did it later. It matters more that we keep him from this...Well of Sorrows he seeks.” Cassandra flexed her arm, testing its abilities after being healed. She hefted her shield and sword a moment later, ready to put action to her words.

Blackwall was nodding his support for the idea. “Aye, we won't get anywhere trying to figure it out now.”

“I agree. Our focus should be keeping him from what he seeks in the temple within.” Solas concurred.

“The templars can hear us.” Cole interrupted ominously, facing the doorway leading deeper into the temple with his blades held ready.

Autumn clenched her jaw, pushing the burning questions in her mind towards the back for the moment. They had enemies here and now to take care of before they could worry about the next step. She wouldn't let the panic claim her just yet, not until after Samson lay dead at her feet and whatever was in this temple had been kept safe. She only hoped she would be strong enough to hold it together until then.

 


	82. We Will Engage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which letters between the troops are sent.

_Commander,_

_The troop in the southernmost glen needs aid._

_Red Templars ambush._

_Behemoth._

_\- Simmons_

_**_

_Lady Nightingale,_

_We wiped out the ambush and rescued the regs. No behemoth in sight._

_\- Faren_

_**_

_Commander_

_Well a fucking behemoth just threw a tree at me._

_Southeastern stretch is clear, for now. We can hear more forces somewhere to the east, advise._

_\- Rylen_

_**_

_Cullen,_

_I’ve got my people scouting for the locations of the hostiles. Advise men to focus on what’s in front of them, we have their backs._

_\- Leliana_

_**_

_Commander,_

_West troop reporting in, we’ve lost most our number and there’s more hostiles around the bend._

_We will engage._

_\- Bryce_

_**_

_Faren,_

_Get your ass and your group to the west, Cullen’s idiot men are engaging without reinforcement._

_\- Nightingale_

_**_

_Leliana,_

_The West just fell apart, there’s a flood of them coming through. I’m here, but we need more numbers or we won’t be for much longer._

_\- Cullen_

 


	83. Shut Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which bickering ensues.

Cole darted forward, dashing through the darkened doorway and into the bright light filling the courtyard and beyond her sight. Autumn swore under her breath, wishing he had waited just a moment longer for the rest of them to gather themselves instead of rushing off into danger alone, the irony of that wish lost on her for the moment. She was on his heels in a heartbeat, hoping the others would follow along just as quickly.

She passed through the shadows and into the sunlight streaming down through the ruined ceiling above, colorful birds springing from the trees in alarm at their entrance. Cole had run onward, launching himself into a small pool filled with water that at one time could have been a peaceful decoration for the temple, but was now engulfed in overgrown plants and the roots of massive trees that had reclaimed the space as their own. He pounced on a red templar who had little time to prepare, slicing his blades across the man's throat before using his chest as a leveraging point to leap onto another. He toppled him to the ground, rolling with him in the water as they both struggled to gain the upper hand.

“Hold them off!” Samson’s voice cut through the air from the platform above them. She looked up, meeting his eyes before he turned and fled, leaping away and out of her sight. A troop of red templars replaced him, rushing down the age worn stairs towards her and the rest of the party. Everything immediately dissolved into chaos when the two forces clashed together.

Water scattered everywhere, great splashes being kicked up by the feet of the participants in the hostile encounter, boots scrambling for purchase against ancient marble and moss covered branches. She found herself blinded by errant sprays of moisture, desperately blinking as she tried to ascertain what was going on around her. She was robbed of her chance when a solid metal body rammed into her side, sending her flying across the area and slamming into the ground, water filling her mouth as she gasped in shocked pain. Her attacker was on her in a flash, the metal of his burdensome plate armor driving her further into the water, heavy against her legs as he pinned her down. She struggled, kicking and swinging her blades while she tried to keep her head above the water level, ripples from the melee bringing swells of the tepid liquid up over her head. A guttural snarl escaped the man on top of her, and she felt him swing a free arm back behind him. She had only a second to react, so she gathered her strength and with all her might tossed herself to the side. The man went flying as her body rolled, his blow landing harmlessly against the rocks next to her. She pulled herself away from him and stood, coughing painfully as her lungs emptied themselves of the water she'd swallowed. Her opponent was still flailing in the water, his armor a detriment now that he had been thrown, so she pressed her advantage and drove one of her daggers into the back of his neck. She felt the blade glance against his spine before slicing through the vital veins next to it, ending his life in one quick blow.

Still retching up mouthfuls of water, she turned, scanning the area, and found that what few templar remained were running up the steps, away from the strike team pursuing them. She forced her legs to lift and carry her forward, easing into a run as her lungs recovered from her brief brush with drowning. She managed to get to the top of the steps before the others, just as the templars dove over the edge of a hole blown in the floor of the temple. She was almost there, ready to leap in after them, when Morrigan thrust herself before her, skidding to a halt and holding out her hands in warning. Autumn practically fell over in her effort to stop in time and avoid sending them both careening over the edge.

“Wait! Hold a moment, Inquisitor!” Morrigan shouted, catching Autumn before her balance was completely lost.

“What?!” Autumn snapped at her, frustrated that she could not pursue her prey. Samson was down there somewhere, and she desperately wanted to settle the score between them.

“The Venatori have gone thus, but our path lies over there!” she waved her hand in the direction of a large door behind them.

“We don't have time for this, boss. Just jump, the witch can follow if she wants.” Bull said.

Autumn gave him a withering look, silencing him. “Why? Shouldn't we just try to track down Samson before he gets where he needs to go?”

“We are not in a cave, Inquisitor, some empty place where any hole serves as a path. Or do you not feel the power in the ruins beneath your feet?” Morrigan puffed out her chest, prepared to argue the point. “If we seek the Well of Sorrows we must follow the proper paths. We know not what would happen were we to shirk any of the steps.”

“We have no idea what's behind that door, Morrigan. How do we know the Venatori didn't have a reason for going this way?” she waved vaguely at the hole before her.

“No, Inquisitor. Tis true I know not what lies beyond those doors, but I _do_ know about dealing with magic, particularly ancient magic, and shortcuts lead only to early graves.” she lifted her head defiantly.

“I believe I agree with the witch, on this account.” Solas said, appearing beside her. “The ghosts of great power still haunt these stones. It would be unwise to disrespect them.”

“Besides, if we have to do something to activate this Well before reaching it, we'd just have to double back anyhow.” Dorian added.

Bull growled in disapproval. “Those people out there are dying to give us this chance. The quicker we get this over with the sooner they get saved.”

“ _Those people_ joined the Inquisition knowing what was at stake. Surely they would not appreciate their lives if all else was lost in the process!” Morrigan snapped.

“Should we really even concern ourselves with this well? If we kill Samson and bar the way, wouldn't that do the trick?” Varric asked.

“I say burn the whole friggin’ place down. Thousand year old shite won't bring anything but trouble.” Sera mumbled.

“Right, because setting ancient magical artifacts on _fire_ is a perfectly sound plan!” Dorian scoffed.

“It is perhaps better than letting them fall into the wrong hands, my dear.” Vivienne crossed her arms and glared at him. “Perhaps Sera's idea is not such nonsense after all.”

“Thank you!” Sera stuck her tongue out at Dorian petulantly.

“It would be folly to throw away such power!” Morrigan was shouting now, all but stamping her feet in indignation.

Cassandra narrowed her eyes at the witch. “Power you no doubt want for your own purposes.”

Autumn's head was spinning as they all began shouting at the same time, half of them in favor of leaping down the hole while the other half wanted to pursue the correct pathway. he tried to clear her mind, to block out their bickering and think. When she heard them dissolve into screaming obscenities at one another she had finally had enough.

“ _Shut up_. Sweet Maker will all of you be quiet?!” she yelled, the force of the call hurting her throat as it left her. Everyone fell silent and looked at her, and she was gratified that they managed to at least look contrite. “We're a team, stop fighting and act like it.” she turned to Morrigan, looking at her appraisingly, making her final decision as she did so. “I know we're in a hurry but I'm not a fan of rushing into this without knowing what we're getting into. That's the kind of shit that ends up blowing holes in the sky.” she nodded, turning to the door behind them. “We're also not about to burn an entire ancient temple to the ground. So all of you shut up, put on your big kid pants, and follow me.” she strode forward towards the door and the rest of them followed silently.

Beyond the door was a series of elven pathways, old magic that was activated by following the right steps to show obeisance to the elven goddess Mythal. She managed to get everyone to work together to figure out the proper paths, and before they knew it they had unlocked the doorway that led into an inner sanctum. The room beyond was covered in golden tiles, and several doorways led into identical hallways beyond, a maze of shimmering mosaics and elven architecture. She glanced around with a sinking feeling. It could take them years to navigate these hallways on their own, especially with no visible markers to distinguish one path from another. They had no way of knowing where they went, nor did they have any inkling of which direction they should be headed. They had very possibly just wasted all that time on the pathways for nothing.

The whisper of air behind them was all the warning she had to tell her they were no longer alone in the temple. Autumn placed a hand on her dagger, looking around slowly as she readied for whatever would come next. She tensed and waited to see if the presence would make itself known.

“Who are you?”

 


	84. Commander is Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which more letters from the field.

__

_Commander,_

_There’s screaming towards the deep south, near the entrance to the temple. Can’t wait, we’re going in, send in the fucking cavalry._

_-Rylen_

_**_

_Nightingale,_

_Cullen’s idiot men secure, nothing left in this area and perimeters have been set._

_Waiting orders._

_\- Faren_

_**_

_Harding,_

_Heading to the farthest south, requesting all troops not on fortification to attend. Depart immediately._

_\- Bryce_

_**_

_Anyone reading this,_

_Behemoths, a lot of them. A fucking lot of them._ (part of the page has been singed away, damaging a good portion of the message)

_\- from the West._

_Send help, NOW._

_\- Rylen_

_**_

_Bryce,_

_On our way. What the fuck is happening over there? Should we come in hot or low._

_Advise._

_\- Harding._

_**_

_Faren,_

_South. Now._

_\- Nightingale_

_**_

_Harding,_

_Low, hot, ambush would be great._

_\- Bryce_

_**_

_All points,_

_Do not send people from the West, that way is completely overrun and we can’t get in backup. Loop around._

_\- Captain Simmons_

_**_

_Nightingale,_

_Commander is down. Trapped. Only four of us left._

_Final sendoff in an hour if no word._

_\- Faren_

 


	85. A Legacy That Would Tear Them All Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Autumn make a poor decision. Again.

“Who are you?” a deep voice resounded above them, and once again Autumn found herself looking up to see who had spoken. A tall, lean elven man stood before them, his golden armor glittering as it clung tightly to his skin. He frowned at her, confused by her very existence, stoically judging her worth as she stood below him. “You are unlike the others. You come through our temple with one of our own, bearing magic that feels...familiar. You respect the sacred rites of Mythal...what do you want? Why are you here?”

“The others you spoke of are our enemies. We've come to stop them from taking something from this temple.” Autumn told him, opting for as much honesty as she could afford. She was acutely aware of the line of archers that had taken up position behind them.

“You seek to protect the Vir'abelasan?” the man's eyebrows shot up, clearly not expecting that answer. He seemed to regard her with a degree of respect for it, nodding in reaction.

“The Well of Sorrows.” Morrigan hissed her translation of the elven word in a low whisper.

“I seek to stop the one who seeks it.” she replied, ignoring Morrigan's choked noise of disapproval. “I don't want to fight you, or your people.” she added, hoping it would be enough for the archers to lower their bows.

He nodded, as though this cleared everything up for him. “I believe you.” he turned and walked down the stairs towards them, every step evenly placed and measured. The way he moved held a peculiar, effortless kind of grace that made it hard not to look at him in awe. “I am Abelas.” he said when he reached her, inclining his head politely. The rest of the elven warriors in the room seemed to relax, and Autumn felt her shoulders drop now that the tension had passed.

She mimicked his movement, dipping her head forward. “My name is Autumn, and my companions and I are part of the Inquisition.”

“We will help you fight, Autumn of the Inquisition. We will guide you to the ones you seek and stand with you against them, but in return you must agree to leave here once it is done. When your enemies lay at your feet, leave this temple and never return.” his tone was grave, and his silvery eyes bored into her own, demanding her acceptance of his terms and providing the silent threat that things would not go favorably if she did not.

“Do you know what they seek here? What is the...Vir'abelasan?” the elven word felt strange on her tongue, rolling off it with an unpracticed accent. It felt uncouth, the way she said it, and she winced inwardly at her own ineptitude.

“The Well of Sorrows.” he said in the common tongue, eyes narrowing. “It is not for you. It is not for _any_ of you.” he cast a glance back at Morrigan before returning his focus to her. “We are sentinels, tasked with guarding this temple and the Well, servants to Mythal. You need not know more than that.”

“Temple guardians? How long have you been here?” Dorian asked.

“Longer than your shemlen history can remember.” he answered evenly.

“You mean...you were here before the Imperium wiped out your people?” Dorian was taken aback, eyes wide as he looked over the elf with renewed interest.

“The shemlen were not responsible for the destruction of our people.” Abelas stated it as though it did not go against the grain of all the knowledge that they had of the bloodied events in the past.

“What?! What about the war? Are you telling me there was no war between our peoples?”

“No more a war than vultures feasting on a corpse.”

“That's...is it really possible all our history has been lies, all this time? If it wasn't Tevinter, then what _did_ happen to the elves?”

Abelas shook his head sadly. “Our people tore themselves apart long before yours ever found us. We were our own destruction.” he turned his serious eyes back to her again. “Enough, we have little time to spend on tales to satisfy your curiosity. It matters little what happened to us then, only what we must do now.”

Autumn cast a glance to Solas, wondering how he was handling this information. He was especially quiet during this exchange, and when she caught his eye he had a melancholy expression on his face. She saw pain and sadness swirling in his dark eyes, mingling with a distinct undercurrent of fear. For a moment she felt lost as she gazed on her friend, wanting to reach out to him and reassure him that all would be well, even if she had no idea if that were true or not. What exactly he was afraid of she could not say, nor did she have the opportunity to ask him about it now. She gave him a small smile, hoping that would be enough before she turned back to Abelas.

“You're correct, as interesting as this is, we shouldn't waste any time. Lead they way, Abelas.” she bowed again, trying to show him as much respect as she could.

“You're guide is there. I will join you after I have seen to the Well.” he turned, walking up the stairs before Morrigan cried out.

“No! Inquisitor he seeks to destroy the Well that none may use it!”

“I will not see it despoiled by the unworthy.” his voice was ice as he answered her.

Morrigan's yellow eyes were full of dread as she held out her hands to Autumn in supplication. “Please, Inquisitor, if we lose the Well we may yet have no way to defeat Corypheus! We need what lies within!”

Abelas face contorted into a scowl, his calm demeanor threatening to give way to rage if they were not careful. “I will not let you have it!” and then he turned and was running up the stairs and through one of the numerous doors. Morrigan let out a cry of anguish, and before anyone could react she turned into a bird, a cloud of magical energy washing over them as her wings carried her aloft and after Abelas.

“Morrigan!” Autumn called the warning, but if she was heard the witch gave no indication. Both of them were gone quickly, leaving the rest of them standing in shock in their wake.

“Fucking mages.” Bull snarled.

“I resent that.” Dorian cast a glare his way. Bull opened his mouth to reply but Autumn decided it was neither the time nor place for them to have this discussion.

“Shut up.” she ordered them both, turning to the other elven warriors still standing in the room. Luckily they did not seem to be preparing to attack, so Morrigan's rash actions had not jeopardized their alliance. A stooped elven woman, leaning heavily on her staff and carrying a book larger than her entire torso, stepped forward, snapping something in elven at them. Autumn looked to Solas, who appeared more composed than he had a moment before.

“She wishes us to follow.” Solas answered her unspoken question.

“Oh, well then I guess we should.” she shrugged, giving her party a small grin. Sera grumbled something under her breath about ancient weirdness, but didn't voice any concerns loud enough that the elven guide would have heard. They all trooped after the strange woman as she began leading them down the endless corridors.

It took only a couple of turns before Autumn was hopelessly lost, made worse by the fact that several times the woman stopped at a seemingly solid wall and mumbled a few words, opening a door where seconds before there had been none. After the party was through, the new passage would shut behind them, sealing them to their fate and the whim of their guide. She hoped fervently that they were being led to wherever Samson was, as Abelas had promised, and not to their doom for Morrigan's actions. Autumn was positive even if they could fight off a sudden attack and try to escape, they would never find their way back out of here on their own.

Eventually they reached a room with only one other door, and the elven woman bowed and muttered something else in elven before wandering through another hidden passage without them, closing the door behind her so they could not follow.

“Well, I guess this is it then.” Varric shrugged, strolling over to the door and opening it.

He ducked back around the edge as countless eyes turned towards the movement, a multitude of red templar staring them down. With a exuberant cry Bull shoved his mass out the door and into their midst, swinging his axe with wild abandon. It took the rest of them only half a heartbeat to follow, and they flooded out into the room beyond to take on their enemies. Autumn kept herself back from engaging even as her team threw themselves into the fray, her eyes scanning the figures and seeking out her objective.

She saw him, slinking around the corner in the midst of the chaos, terrifying, impossible red armor glittering ominously just as he slipped away. The elven guards had joined them and were fighting all around her, her team embroiled with trying to help them, to kill the cursed red Templar before they could wipe out this amazing and ancient group of survivors. She saw Samson trying to get away, to run and hide or sneak off and do whatever it was Corypheus wanted him to do here, without having to fight. She would not let this bastard get away again, would not let him continue to haunt Cullen's nightmares by being malicious enough to continue existing. She would end his service to Corypheus today if it was the last thing she did, and she would not miss this chance. Without waiting for her party to finish she took off, alone, giving chase to the source of the flush of rage rushing through her.

Hindsight is a cold and vicious mistress. Hindsight is doubt, it's regret and pain bottled up and concentrated. Hindsight is born of poor judgment, of rash thinking, of recklessness, of the would haves and should haves that echo in the mind long past the moments when they might have been needed. Hindsight was the bitter pill that kept you up at night years after the moment was done. In hindsight, rushing ahead alone was a very stupid idea.

As soon as she rounded the corner, raced across the room, and shoved open the doors to where Samson had gone he set upon her. She was grabbed by her hair, yanked backwards so hard that she could feel part of her scalp ripping, and slammed against the wall. She could hear the red lyrium in his armor singing to her, a far off voice, a lullaby of damnation, pressing into her as he crushed her to the stone, hand gripped like iron around her throat. She could feel her skin bruising under the pressure while blood soaked the back of her head, a warm trickle working its way down to coat her collar.

“I knew this day would come, Herald of Andraste.” he snarled, spittle flying onto her cheek, his breath hot and acrid against her face, stinking of lyrium and corruption. She tried to fight him off, tried to struggle, but his grip was impervious to anything she did, his armor impenetrable. She needed an opening, needed just a moment to reach into her pocket and pull out the rune dear, dear Dagna had crafted, so she could get rid of his power source and take the son of a bitch down. “Stop squirming, whore.” he kneed her in the stomach, driving the breath out of her lungs harshly. Her vision swam with the force of the blow and she started coughing weakly, the muscles in her throat still crushed under his hand, preventing her from getting air back in her chest.

“I'm going to enjoy this moment.” his yellowed eyes roamed up and down her body, looking at her in a way that made bile rise in the back of her throat. “I promised Cullen I would take my time when I got my hands on you, to show you what a real man's made of. I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't even remember who you are, fuck you a thousand different ways until you're hoarse from screaming my name. I'm going to rip out your intestines and make you hold them while I fuck your useless corpse.” he slammed her head against the wall, sending star bursts of pain blossoming in her head. “Then, I'm going to cut off your head and send it back to your pet ex-templar with a letter describing ever moan and whimper you made. I'm going to make this as slow and painful as possible, for both of you, for all of you.” he accentuated his words with a punch to the side of her face, his gauntlets cutting into her skin.

For a moment she thought he had killed her with just that blow. Her vision went black, swimming with blurs of colored light as her jaw snapped and felt like fire under her skin. She could feel blood filling her mouth, further compounding her ability to breathe, as every movement ground pieces of broken bone together beneath her cheeks. She wanted to scream but her lungs and mouth weren't working anymore, nothing more than swollen patches of agony pulling her down into writhing despair. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't see...she was going to die, slowly and horribly. For all she had been through, one stupid moment was to be her undoing. It was cruel, it was a grave injustice, and the worst part was it would be hardest on Cullen, because she had no doubt Samson meant every word of his threat, that the man fully intended to violate her in every way his twisted mind could imagine. She had not only lost her life, but she had lost it in the way that would be the most devastating to those she loved. She would leave behind a legacy that would tear them all apart.

She always knew that she wasn't cut out to be a leader, that they never should have let her get close, let her lead, given her their trust. The only thing that she could ever accomplish was letting everyone down, in the end, just like her father had always said.

She felt Samson start ripping at the bodice of her armor before the reality of the situation finally overwhelmed her and she slipped into the blissful oblivion of unconsciousness.

 


	86. NOT WEST

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which more letters from the field, again.

_Nightingale_

_We’ve secured the entrance to the temple, all hostiles driven east._

_Troops still trapped to the west of us, if we move fast we can get to them._

_Let’s ambush the fuck out of them._

_\- Rylen_

_**_

_Hey Red,_

_Our turn, yeah?_

_\- Krem_

_**_

_Krem,_

_Head to the western front, bring all the Chargers._

_Cullen’s down, we haven’t had a status since._

_\- Red_

_**_

_Bryce,_

_Nightingale says we don’t go west, we head north to secure that sector._

_\- Harding_

 

_Bryce,_

_What the fuck, man? NOT WEST._

_Further action will count as insubordination._

_\- Harding_

_**_

_Harding,_

_What’s happening? Why did he go West? Have the orders changed?_

_\- Rylen_

_**_

_Rylen,_

_WHY ARE YOU FOLLOWING HIM? DO YOU IDIOTS UNDERSTAND ORDERS AT ALL?_

_\- Harding_

 


	87. Ma Lath, Ma Nuvenin, Ma Vhenan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Solas finds Autumn.

Solas saw her race after Samson and was filled with a sense of panic unlike anything he had ever experienced. His legs ached to chase after her, but he was surrounded by templars and would have to deal with them first. He thought, for a moment, to call out to one of their friends, to send someone after her, but they were just as busy, would be even less likely to get there in time. Using his fear as motivation, he summoned what power he could from the fade, smashing the monsters before him as quickly as he was able. Not fast enough, not nearly fast enough, and the only thing running through his mind was that he needed to go, needed to get to her before she could throw herself in the path of danger alone again.

When he was free his feet flew across the ground, racing down the path that she had traced only moments before, but for how his heart felt it could have been an age. Civilizations could have risen and fallen in the time it took him to reach her, and he cursed his failure, his inability to protect her, again and again.

He saw her, pressed up against the wall with Samson's hands on her, and Solas was filled with a blind rage like no other that had ever possessed him before. He heard her whimper and he was lost, so consumed by the need to tear this man, this human, this scum, to shreds for his gall to dare touch what he cherished, to dare lay his hands upon something Solas held so sacred. For a moment he lost his mind, so consuming was this fury, and he felt himself flowing with power that he had not felt since before his longest sleep.

Solas was not even sure what he did. It seemed as though he blinked and the man was suddenly across the room, groaning on the ground as Autumn collapsed against the wall. Throwing up a barrier, he ran to her, wrapping her in his arms and his magic, enveloping her in an effort to protect her from the horrors that might have been if he had been delayed even a moment longer.

“Ma lath, ma nuvenin, ma vhenan.” he sobbed as he held her. She was broken, some of her ribs, her face a swelling mass of forming bruises, blood spattering across her delicate mouth. The image of her so harmed made him careless, made his lips speak the names that were never meant for waking moments, never meant for outside the walls of his fade paradise. She was trying to speak, to say something, but her jaw was shattered, she could not move it to form the words. The pain in those perfect green eyes killed him, tearing into him as surely as if it were a blade in his chest.

He began healing her, the magic draining from him faster by the minute, doing his best to knit together the broken bones as quickly as he could, to restore her to the unharmed, unequaled woman who held his heart. He would protect her. He would keep this pain from her if he had to use all the power left in him to do it, if he had to cast himself to death right here, he would do so. Damn the consequences, damn his purpose, damn the world and its demands of them all, he would not let her die because of the fate she had stumbled into. He would not have her blood on his hands.

“Solas!” her voice penetrated the haze of his magic, murky as it surrounded them both where she lay in his arms. “Solas stop, you're going to kill yourself! Stop it! I'm fine, I'm fine stop casting I'm fine!” she was shaking him and there were tears tracked down her face. He released the spell, feeling exhaustion and emptiness rush in as soon as it was gone. He sagged against her, unable to hold himself upright, the void inside of him so vast that it shook him, rendered him helpless against the grasping tendrils of shadow that would pull him down, were her light not holding him here, keeping him in place.

Her lips brushed his cheek, a flutter of warmth spreading through him at the simple kiss. He must be in the fade, he thought distantly, for such perfection was not granted to him in reality.

“Stay here, don't cast...” she whispered, and then she was no longer in his arms and he was resting against the smooth stone wall of the temple, cold from her absence.

***

Autumn had never been so angry. She was furious at herself for being so careless, for almost losing her own life, almost leaving behind a fate worse than death for her friends, for forcing Solas into a position where he almost killed himself to save her. But more than that she was furious with Samson. Later she would beat herself up for what she had done, later she would apologize to Solas and make it up to him, but now...in this moment, she would make Samson feel every ounce of her rage.

She wasted no time. She was given a second chance and this time she would do things right. She pulled out the rune and used it, without a word, without any ceremony. His armor shattered and he screamed where he lay.

“You bitch! What did you do, you cunt?!”

He was on his feet in a flash, eyes wild with panic. He lunged at her, but she was ready. She had her blades out, her stance perfect, and he was rushed and reckless and not prepared. He missed her, her nimble body easily darting out of the way, her speed enhanced by the strength of the magic Solas had poured into her moments before. She spun past his clumsy attack, and in the same motion drove her blade deep into his back, just above his hip bone. He gurgled, sputtered, stumbled, and lay still against the ground that had rushed up to meet him.

She wasn't sure when she moved, but when the rest of her team ran in and found her she was kneeling on top of Samson and driving her daggers into his back over and over again, blood spreading over everything as tears tracked burning trails down her face. The hilts of her blades were slick with the hot liquid, her hands coated crimson as it worked its way between her fingers clenched tight around the leather. She was lifted away, Bull's strong hands pulling her back into a firm embrace that locked her arms to her sides, forcing her to stop the endless motion, ending her ability to drive her blades home just one more time. Her daggers fell and clattered to the ground, and she looked around blankly, taking in her surroundings and feeling as though she had never seen them before. She felt like she didn't remember how she got there, even though the memories were all there, connected together to show her the steps. Dorian was supporting Solas as they limped over to her, and she sobbed at the sight, shame washing over her to replace the fading rage. She could feel her tears, sticky on her cheeks as they mingled with the grime across her skin, and she sobbed again as she truly remembered everything that had just happened, everything that might have happened had Solas not intervened, the thoughts becoming more real with each passing moment, each play through that flickered through her mind.

If her friends would have had anything to say about Samson's demise, they were robbed of the chance as Morrigan's bird avatar flew overhead, Abelas hot on her tail, speeding past them and up the steps to the well. With all her effort, Autumn pulled herself together and broke out of Bull's arms to give chase.

She stumbled as she made her way up the stairs, the others right behind her, and came to a tumultuous halt next to Abelas, who was glaring at Morrigan, once again in her slender human form. Autumn wiped her hands off on her clothes, unsure if it was actually effective at getting rid of the thick red she was covered in. The Well of Sorrows, an unassuming pool of water in front of the unmistakable form of an eluvian, lay before them, its surface eerily still beneath the canopy of trees above. As she neared, she could hear it whisper to her, untold secrets of power and knowledge lurking under the surface and tempting her to taste the crystal waters, beckoning her to bring it to her lips and discover thousands of years of... _something_ that lay locked away beneath. She shuddered, turning her attention away from the pool and towards the pair facing off at its edge. Abelas glanced between Autumn and the witch, his scowl deepening before he sighed, his shoulders sagging in defeat.

“So Mythal's inner sanctum has been despoiled at last.” he said.

“Abelas...” she wanted to apologize to him. She felt a certain degree of responsibility for what was happening to this temple. Certainly it was Corypheus that had come here, but stopping him was her charge, and if she had been stronger, smarter, faster...maybe she could have stopped him before they ever got to this point. Maybe if she had been a better leader they could have saved Abelas and his people from death at the hands of the foreign intruders. Samson lay dead, and she had accomplished at least that much, but at what cost? How many lives would fate require before she was able to stop Corypheus once and for all?

“I will not see him destroy it because his ancient elven pride bids him not to share his toys.” Morrigan growled, holding her staff before her as though ready to fight them all to protect the Well.

“Morrigan, enough.” Autumn told her, wishing that she could slap some sense into the woman. She was too brash by far, and showed little respect for the plight these people.

“What? We need the Well, Inquisitor, we _need_ -”

“I said enough!” she yelled, far more harshly this time. Morrigan's mouth snapped shut with an audible click as her jaw drew together. She glared, but crossed her arms and remained silent. Autumn turned to Abelas, meeting his eyes and aching at the sorrow that she saw in their depths. “I'm so sorry for what has happened here Abelas. I would have prevented it, if I were able.”

He shook his head. “Perhaps it was always meant to be this way. Surely no place can withstand the inexorable march of time forever.” He turned, looking at the Well sadly. “We have protected this place for years unnumbered, awakening to fight off those who would abuse its power, each time losing more of our comrades. We were always doomed to dwindle into failure, so perhaps this way is kinder.” he sighed, pulling his shoulders straight and meeting her eyes once more. “You have shown respect to me, to my people, to the ways of Mythal, and I sense a righteousness within you that I cannot deny. Perhaps the Well was always meant to fall to your hands, or perhaps this is my final failure. Even so, I cannot rightfully keep it from you. You have earned the right to its power. A warning, though, Autumn. Those who partake of the Well are bound forever to Mythal, tied to her will just as they become tied to her power. Do not take either lightly.”

“Bound to the will of an absent goddess? Seems an empty threat at most.” Morrigan snorted derisively.

“How would you know she's absent? For all you know she'll pop up to say hello the second you touch that creepy thing.” Varric gestured towards the Well, glaring at it as though he resented it for being too mysterious.

“Elven legend says Mythal was banished, along with all the other gods, tricked by the Dread Wolf into imprisonment.” Morrigan recited.

Abelas brows furrowed at her, shaking his head. “The Dread Wolf had nothing to do with her murder.”

“Murder?” Autumn blurted, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “She was murdered? And the Dread Wolf was framed?”

Abelas regarded her for a moment, his expression blank and unreadable. Finally he sighed, shaking his head again. “It matters little anymore. I have said my peace and delivered my warning, I have no wish to discuss ancient scars any further.”

She wanted to argue, wanted to sit with him and ask him a thousand questions that could shed light on mysteries long forgotten by any still alive, but the elven man before her looked so broken, so lost and tired that she couldn't bring the objections to her lips. Abelas' shoulders hung heavily with the weight of untold burdens left to him, countless wounds to his soul that had never been given the chance to heal. She didn't have the heart to rip them open to satisfy her curiosity, even for questions as important as these. One day they would learn who the elven gods were, and what happened to them, what role they played in the events that shook the world so very long ago, but Abelas was not there to give them answers. She only wanted to see him have peace.

“Where will you go now that you don't have to guard the Well?” she asked him.

He looked up to the sky, eyes blinking as the sunlight cascaded over his face. “To find rest, if there is any left to find in this world.” He turned then, beginning to walk away, but she reached out her hand, placing it on his shoulder to stop him.

“If you ever need somewhere to go, the Inquisition would welcome you.”

He gave her a genuine smile, albeit a sad one. “It is a kind offer, but I think my time in this world is at an end. You will not see me again, Autumn, but I thank you all the same. It was a pleasure and an honor to have met you.”

“Abelas.” Solas said suddenly, his eyes regarding the sleek warrior with regret. He said something to him in elven, something Autumn couldn't quite catch, and Abelas nodded before he finally left. She looked at Solas curiously, and he gave her a little smile. “Abelas means 'sorrow'. I told him I hoped he found a better name.”

“Inquisitor, I would take the power of the Well.” Morrigan said, stubbornly pursuing her goal even now.

“And what about the warning? You want to bind yourself to the will of Mythal?”

“You heard his words. Mythal, whatever she was, if she ever existed, was murdered. What danger lies in a dead god's bindings?”

“There's obviously more to it than that, Morrigan. He thought the warning was important, so I wouldn't ignore it if I were you.”

“In any case, I am willing to take the chance. I believe we will need this power to defeat Corypheus, and I alone am trained to use it and turn it to this purpose.”

“I say if the well has power you use it for yourself, Boss.” Bull piped up. She turned to him, regarding him thoughtfully. She could feel the tug of the Well in front of her, the siren song of longing playing in the back of her mind.

Solas moved forward, anger written on his face “No. Autumn, do not consider it. Let the witch have it if someone must, but do not touch that Well for yourself.” the vehemence of his words startled her. She let her eyes drift to the ground as she considered.

“What if we _do_ need it though? What if this is the only way to defeat Corypheus?” she held out her hand, showing the mark to him as though to prove her words. “It's always been me, always been my job to make sure he's stopped. Why should that change now?”

He moved forward further, grabbing her around the shoulders with shaking hands. She could see the desperation behind his eyes, feel it in the way his long fingers dug into her skin. “You...none of this has been fair to you, none of this was your choice, and you have always taken it upon yourself to carry everything but...please, please, I am begging you, do not take this burden. Let another shoulder this piece. You have been through enough and I cannot...” he closed his eyes, taking a shuddering breath to steady himself. “It would be a mistake. Let Morrigan make it, not you.”

Autumn glanced to the Well, still water quietly enticing her forward. She looked back at Solas, at the pleading plain on his face, the deep fear that she would ignore his words. She had always trusted him, always taken his advice as they stumbled their way through all of this mess, but was he right about this? Could she afford to let another take this responsibility? Could she risk it?

As she looked into the depths of his eyes, so vividly blue, small versions of the sea that held fathoms of meaning beneath their glistening surface, she felt her resolve solidify. She only hoped it was the right decision.

 


	88. Promote the Little Orange Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which further letters from the field.

_Red,_

_Promote the little orange boys, immediately._

_We ran in, and it was chaos. We were doing what we could, but they were pinned and there were a LOT of hostiles._

_Then the skinny one, Bryce? Kid with all the freckles. He comes charging in, screaming bloody murder._

_He ran right past the front line and THROUGH them, a bow in his arms he didn’t seem to remember how to use, since he just kept hitting people in the face with it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone more terrified._

_He gets back to where the team is stuck, and then a few minutes later he comes back out dragging the Commander behind him, a really pissed off dwarf on his heels. It was a lot of orange hair and screaming._

_Long story short, promote them, and Commander is safe, if only somewhat full of holes._

_\- Krem_

_**_

_Bryce,_

_I will kill you myself. Of all the stupid, reckless, insane things I have ever seen, that might just top the list._

_You’re as bad as the Maker cursed Inquisitor._

_But thank you for rescuing the Commander’s ass._

_\- Harding_

_**_

_Leliana,_

_Status?_

_\- Cullen_

_**_

_Cullen,_

_Grounds are secure, we have people heading into the temple now. I presume you’re following?_

_\- Leliana_

_**_

_Krem,_

_Just how many holes are in the Commander, and do we need to sedate him to keep him out of the fight?_

_\- Red_

_**_

_Red,_

_I think we plugged all the holes, and I don’t think there’s a sleeping draught strong enough to keep him out of that damn temple._

_\- Krem_

_**_

_Nightingale,_

_Commander is going in, you joining? I’m watching his ass, if not._

_In the strictly military sense, that is._

_\- Rylen_

_**_

_Rylen,_

_On our way. Hold until arrival._

_\- Nightingale_

_**_

_Josie,_

_Send the birds, we’re going in._

_\- Leliana_

_**_

_All points,_

_Anyone not on perimeter duty head to the temple to assist in the charge to clear it out. Orders will be issues by Sister Leliana and Commander Cullen on sight._

_Maker speed._

_\- Ambassador Josephine Montilyet_

 


	89. She Belongs to the Inquisition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Autumn returns home and Cullen is unhappy with her letter.

“Morrigan, it's yours.” She said, giving Solas a little smile as she did. His relief was palpable in the way he released the breath from his chest, the way his fingers loosened from her shoulders Autumn didn't even see how anyone else reacted to the decision as she was promptly crushed into Solas’ chest. He pulled her close, cradling the back of her head as he pressed her ear to his heart, thudding away thanks to his rush of emotion.

“Thank you.” he murmured, kissing the crown of her head. “Thank you for listening, for once in your life.”

She laughed, the sound muffled by the fabric of his robes. “Are you trying to say I'm stubborn, Solas?” She pulled back to smile up at him, and he grinned in return, his eyes shining happily down at her.

He took her chin in his hand as she stepped out of his embrace. “The most frustratingly stubborn woman I have every met, Lethallan.”

She laughed again as he let go. “I don't do anything halfway.” He chuckled in response, shaking his head.

She turned her attention away from her friend to watch Morrigan walk reverently into the center of the pool, the water rippling steadily around the edge of her leather skirts. The expression on her face was almost euphoric as she turned around, facing them, before dropping down to her knees and sinking beneath the surface, the waves around her reflecting glittering pieces of the sun slanting from above. As the water slowly settled and became glass-like around her once more, Autumn was afraid Morrigan intended to drown herself in her effort to use the Well. She was disabused of the worry when the water of the well exploded outward, showering them in moisture that tingled against her skin, like little pieces of ice melting into ether. She threw her arm up to cover her face even as Solas turned to throw his own arms between her and the Well protectively, but nothing more happened beyond the initial wave. Blinking away the fine mist that danced across her eyelashes, she lifted her head up to peer around Solas and see if Morrigan was alright.

Morrigan stood, touching her face as though unsure if it would still be there, mumbling something to herself that sounded suspiciously like elven. She looked around, awestruck, before her gaze found its way to Autumn. Her yellow eyes were filled with exultation, and she took a small half step forward. “It...it worked! I have done it!” Autumn gave her a hesitant smile, wondering if it had really been such a good idea to let her have it after all. “Inquisitor, I think I can-”

“He's here.” Cole interrupted her, his voice urgent, and everyone turned around to face him. He was gazing off towards the entrance to the chamber, pale eyes wide beneath the strands of hair hanging below his hat. Autumn spun, looking towards the door, and she felt her heart seize as her eyes met the darkspawn Magister's.

“ _Fuck_.” terror gripped her chest like a vice. Could they fight him here? Were any of them strong enough after the battles they had already survived? Autumn wasn't even sure it would do them any good to kill him if he could just rise again somewhere else. It would be a dangerous waste of effort to take him on if he could still escape, especially if he was powerful enough to kill one of them in the process.

“Inquisitor!” Morrigan called for her attention and she spun her head around. The witch had run over the eluvian, activating it with a wave of her hand. She was standing before it as though holding open a door, and Autumn didn't hesitate to act on her invitation.

“ _Run!_ ” She ordered the others, and one by one they started leaping into the shimmering blue passage. She heard Corypheus let out a cry of rage and she looked back, meeting his eyes again as he surged forward in a cloud of dark smoke, a terrifying funnel of fury charging towards them. She had only a moment of worry that they might not make it in time before Solas was yanking the back of her jacket, pulling her through the portal and away form the danger.

They tumbled onto the floor on the other side, and she felt the snap of magic in the air as Morrigan closed the connection. She sat up, looking around in alarm before she realized that she recognized the room; they were back in Skyhold. She scrambled to her feet, glancing around anxiously and counting heads. She let out a small sigh of relief when she noted everyone had made it through safely.

“He can't follow?” She asked Morrigan, eying the now dark surface of the mirror dubiously.

“No, Inquisitor. The Well was the key, one he can no longer use.” she replied haughtily. Autumn kept herself from rolling her eyes at the smugness wafting off the witch.

“Is everyone alright?” she asked the group.

“Equal measures happy and unnerved to be home.” Dorian quipped, dusting off his robes and flashing her a cheeky grin.

“While I _do_ find it upsetting there is now a portal leading directly to Skyhold, I cannot say I'm particularly put out to avoid the long march home.” Vivienne added primly.

“Wow, Cully Wully is gonna have puppies when he figures out you're not in the temple anymore, Hummbirdy.” Sera said.

Autumn slapped her palm against her forehead, regretting the action almost immediately as she could feel dirt and grime smear across her face. “Andraste's shining nipples, you're right. Fuck me, we need to get a message back to them before he decides to burn down the whole Maker damned forest.”

Varric gave her a smirk. “How about you go clean off a bit while I grab some parchment and one of Leliana's birds?” he offered. She gave him a grateful smile.

“Excellent idea. Oh, make it Baron Plucky, I want the message to get to Leliana directly.” she added to his already turning back. She saw him wince.

“Ugh, fine, but if I lose any fingers I'm charging you for it.”

“How much is a finger even worth?” Blackwall asked him, following his path out of the room.

Sera giggled. “Depends on where you stick it, yeah?”

Autumn laughed as Cassandra groaned. They all left to go clean up and compose messages to the people they had left behind. Despite her concern over Cullen's well being, she couldn't quite suppress the sweet relief of being home sooner than expected.

*******

_Commander Cullen, Sister Leliana, Ambassador Montilyet:_

_I have attached my report of what happened in the temple, as I'm sure our courageous leader has left out a great many details in her letter to the Commander. If she even included any at all. If you have any pressing questions do not hesitate to send a bird for me. For everything else, I will be happy to report in directly when you return to Skyhold._

_Sincerely,_

_Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast_

_****** _

_Cullen,_

_I hope this letter reaches you before you start to panic. We went through the eluvian and are safely back at Skyhold. No lasting injuries to report, thankfully enough. I'm sure Cassandra is explaining more in her report about what exactly happened, but rest assured I am safe and home, waiting for your return._

_Love always,_

_Autumn_

Cullen wanted to crumple the paper in his hands. No lasting injuries. Indeed. He'd already read Cassandra's report, and he couldn't decide if he would kiss Autumn or throttle her when he saw her again. Running off to chase Samson on her own, getting hurt so badly Solas nearly died healing her, giving Morrigan access to a powerful magical artifact that they had absolutely no knowledge about. What had she been thinking?

His nostrils flared in his anger, looking over the letter for the thousandth time as his mount carried him back towards Skyhold, the troops following at a steady pace. The worst part was that she must have known he was going to be angry, that he would resent her show of recklessness – _again_. She _knew_ , and yet mentioned none of it in her letter, glossing over it in an effort to hide the truth. Breaking their rules for the first time in their relationship by trying to keep it a secret. It would have been easier on him had she just been honest, if she had just told him how much danger she had been in, how close it actually was. As it stood now, he couldn't trust that she was, in fact, perfectly safe. He could not _rest assured_ , as she suggested. He was worried that she was hiding the truth of the damage, worried that she might be covering up injuries even from the others at Skyhold with her. He knew that she wasn't likely in any peril, but until he could see her and assess her well being for himself he was going to be an angry, worried mess, and part of that was her fault by not being as forthcoming as she should have been.

“You look like you swallowed a wyvern, Commander.” Leliana's soft voice interrupted his thoughts. She gave him a small smile around the folds of her hood before turning her blue eyes to gaze ahead on the road, quietly waiting for his response.

He gave her a rueful glance. “You read her letter, I assume?”

She snorted in amusement, keeping her eyes forward as she swayed on her horse. “I would be a poor spymaster had I not.”

“She lied.” he clenched his jaw around the words, anger swelling within him anew.

“She didn't technically lie. She just didn't give you the whole story.” Leliana offered unhelpfully, shrugging as though she didn't understand his reaction.

“That's not much different, as far as I'm concerned.”

Leliana grunted her assent, and they rode in silence for awhile, both of them looking ahead rather than at each other. Cullen's eyes didn't take in any of the scenery, unfocused as he stewed in his resentment of his love's words. If he were being completely honest, as much of his anger was at his own failings as it was her omission. It hurt that he couldn't be with her in the temple, that she had faced all of that alone. Perhaps if he had followed her in he could have taken Samson down on his own, and she never would have been hurt by him at all. But he couldn't follow everywhere she went. It was a fact he had thought he had come to terms with long ago, watching her ride out to missions and putting his trust in her abilities and her companions to keep her safe. Yet somehow he found himself full of regrets, wishing that he had never let her go when he saw her outside the temple, wishing that he'd held on just a little longer, wishing that he'd said more or done more or _been_ more for her so that whatever had happened in there had gone another way. Maybe it was nothing, and he was over thinking it, but somehow he felt like she carried scars from what she endured. Scars that she was trying to hide from him by keeping the details of whatever happened to herself.

“I don't think she did it to hurt you.” Leliana's voice snapped him out of his reverie once more.

He glanced at her questioningly. “What do you mean?”

“Perhaps she kept things from you for her own sake. Perhaps whatever happened can't be written down and be understood. Whatever her reasons, Commander, you should know I don't think she'd ever intentionally hurt you.” her blue eyed peeked out at him, scanning him as she no doubt read his thoughts in the grimace crossing his face.

“I know that. That doesn't excuse...” he sighed in exasperation, running his hand through his hair as he searched for the words to express his meaning. “Maker's breath, Leliana, she ran off on her own again and I don't even know how mad I should be about _that_ because I'm so angry that she didn't tell me everything. Now I wonder how many times she might have done the same before. How can I stand to let her out of my sight again if I can't trust her to value her life as much as I do?”

“She can't always belong to you. She belongs to the Inquisition, to the world she's sworn to protect with that anchor carved into her hand. She understands that. Do you?” Leliana gave him a sad, wistful smile before she spurred her horse forward, riding ahead without waiting for his answer.

He wanted to shout at the bard's retreating back, to yell at the sky and the world until his voice gave out and he couldn't give sound to his rage anymore. Of course he knew that, of course he knew that no matter how closely he held her that she could always be ripped away from him, that she could always be forced to give her all in the name of their cause. Was it so wrong to hope it didn't happen? Was it so wrong to wish better from this world, that had already taken so much from him, from her, from all of them? Was it so selfish that he wanted to reach out into the darkness in her stead and save her from whatever fate had in store?

Cullen rode on in silence, brooding over their circumstances, and wishing very much that he could do something to stop the tide of helplessness rushing through his veins.

 


	90. Fireflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Autumn finds comfort in a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art is by the perfect Grimcake (http://grimmcake.tumblr.com/) WHO IS THE BEST PLEASE GO TELL HER YOU LOVE HER ART.

Fireflies were dancing lazy, meandering patterns against the velvet night sky above her head. Autumn stared at them, transfixed, wondering how she had never noticed that they filled the garden at night. She watched as they hovered over her, tiny warm glows that flared to life and blinked out moments later, counterpoints to the cold light of the stars so much farther away. A gentle breeze would come through every few minutes, sending them scattering as the scent of the flowers filled her nostrils, and she would breathe deeply while they slowly crowded back into the space, undeterred by their momentary displacement. The moon hovered somewhere in the sky, hidden behind one of the leafy canopies of the trees around her, out of her sight but still bathing the clearing in moonlight. She just lay there, staring up at the fireflies and the empty patches of endless darkness between them, the grass cold but soft beneath her, cradling her and tangling in her hair. She wasn't sure how long she'd been out here, and if she were honest she didn't care. She needed to look up at the sky and remember that the world had not yet disappeared around her, that she was still the small human she had been before all this had started, that Samson's hands had not marked her in some way that would be visible to the idyllic silver shining down from above.

She heard the soft footsteps working their way towards her, but she made no move to look. By the way they sounded against the bed of grass she guessed the feet were bare, and there was only one person who might come to her this late at night, outside, without any shoes. She didn't bother to greet him as he moved to stand over her, looking down with a bemused expression on his face. Her lips tilted upward in a small smile and he shook his head at her, although for what reason she could not say.

He settled himself next to her on the ground, laying with her so that he could gaze up at the sky alongside her, their bodies touching from shoulder to hip. He felt warm against her, and she marveled at how he knew the contact would bring her comfort. Once again, without her ever having to ask, Solas knew how to be there for her in the way only he seemed to be able to.

“Are you going to tell me what is troubling you, Lethallan?” he asked her, his voice the soft breeze that rustled the leaves overhead. The fireflies flit about aimlessly as she watched the branches shift, shadows and light cascading at different angles with every move.

“How do you know I'm troubled?” she hedged, avoiding his question. She wasn't sure that she wanted to talk about it. Talking about things always made them real, and she wasn't sure she wanted her fears, her pain, her memories to become any more real than they already were.

“You were not sleeping, so I thought you might be somewhere in the castle being melancholy.”

She laughed breathlessly at his accuracy, the sensation of the air in her chest feeling strange while she was flat on the ground. “How did you know I wasn't sleeping?” She turned her head, her cheek resting against her curls as she regarded him. He turned his, blue eyes taking in her face before meeting her own. He looked so graceful when he was shrouded in moonlight, like some creature of legend whose very myth had been lost to time.

“Call it a hunch.” he smiled at her as she laughed again. “I believe you have yet to answer my question.”

She returned her gaze to the sky above, turning away from those searching eyes so that she might lose herself in the darkness once more. She took a breath to speak, but when she realized that she didn't have any words she let it go, the air rushing out in a great sigh that left her feeling empty and cold.

“May I ask you something?” he asked, his voice a deep hum, the sound of wind howling a thousand miles away, of a wolf in the woods calling beyond the edge of the shadows that could be seen.

“Always.” she replied, steadfastly keeping her gaze locked in place.

“Did Samson hurt you?” she could feel his eyes on her, searching her for answers to the question he'd dared to ask, the one she wanted to talk about the least, the one that made her close her eyes and shudder without meaning to.

“You mean besides the broken jaw?” she laughed, but the sound was bitter and icy and stuck in her throat like thorns on a stem.

“Autumn.” her name was a reprimand, a simple reminder that her avoidance would not work, not for this, not in this moment, not with him.

“No, Solas. He wanted to, he was going to, he started to…but he never got that far.” a tear worked its way out of her eye, and she brushed it away, angry that speaking of something that didn't even happen was enough to make her eyes well, make her throat feel closed again as though a fist were wrapped around it once more.

“It hurts as though he had.” it wasn't a question. Solas wasn't asking if it tortured her, because he already knew, could probably see it in the silly little tears that prickled in her eyes and the tremble of her lips. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak anymore. She reached out for his hand laying next to hers, twining their fingers together for their quiet support. He tensed for a moment, surprised by her action, but relaxed into the gesture just as quickly, considerately returning her desperate pressure.

They fell silent once more and she allowed her mind to drift, to sink into the doubts and fears that always hovered just below the surface. She let herself drown in the abyss in her soul, that black pit of terror that she would fall, that she would fail, and that nothing could save them once she had. As much as she tried to pretend, to hold her head up high and look brave for the people that needed her to, she was only mortal. She was only a small girl from Ostwick who had grown up in fear to be thrust into more. This mark on her hand only gave her the possibility of success, and no matter how determined she was, she knew that it still might not be sufficient.

“What if I'm not enough?” she asked him, her voice sounding small in her own ears.

He didn't answer her right away, staring into the night as he rubbed his thumb across her own slowly, the touch soothing against her cold skin. For awhile she thought that he wouldn't answer her, that he _had_ no answer for her. Perhaps there wasn't an answer. Perhaps the only answer was that they would all be lost, and he didn't want to tell her, to worry her further than she already was. When he finally broke the silence she almost jumped at the sudden noise, out of place amidst the quiet that had enveloped her seconds before.

“Do you remember what I told you about the orb?” he asked her.

“The foci? That it was elven, that it belonged to one of the elven gods.” she said, her brow furrowing as she recalled the conversation on that long ago mountainside.

“Yes.” he paused, leaving her wondering where this was going before his steady speech finally continued. “I believe that the foci that gave you that mark has tied you to the god it belongs to. I believe that this god, or being, whatever you might consider them, I believe that they will watch over you, and that whatever happens they will protect you.”

She turned to face him again, meeting his eyes once more. He looked determined, sure, and she saw that his faith in this notion was strong. She felt his breath ghost across her face as her eyes searched his, looking for any hint of doubt. She saw fear, she saw pain, but she didn't see any uncertainty in the words he had said.

“Maybe you're right.” her voice was faint as it left her. “Do you think we'll find the foci again? Do you think we'll get it back so I can find out who this god is and thank them?”

The pain she saw in him grew intense, like her words has struck some chord within. He turned away, the fireflies reflecting back at her as little points of light against the blue in his eyes, flickering out of existence every time he blinked. “I hope the foci is not lost,” he admitted, “but I doubt this god would require your thanks. What purpose does a god serve if not to protect those bound to them?”

“I would thank them all the same.” she said.

He chuckled slightly, small smile splaying across his lips in response. “Perhaps this god can hear you, then, and already knows your gratitude.”

“Well, if that's the case I hope they aren't mad at all the people calling me the Herald of Andraste.” she giggled as he let out a stronger laugh, the smile on his face broadening further. He looked at her again, and she could see the humor in his eyes, chasing away all the hurt from before.

“Are you implying they might be jealous of Andraste's recognition?”

“Well, wouldn't you be? All that work protecting me and some other legendary figure gets the credit.” she grinned and he barked out more laughter that shook his chest, his hand squeezing hers in appreciation.

“I have doubt that _credit_ is a big concern.”

They laughed together, the sound startling the insects above them and sending them scattering away, light flitting over their faces before it was replaced with the even silver of the moon. She settled closer, resting her head on her friend's shoulder and reveling in the fact that he had driven her sorrows away, even if only for a little while. She still had her misgivings, still had the lingering disquiet that came from knowing everything was resting on her shoulders, but for now, in this moment, she could relax again, and let the minutes ease by, the future of uncertainty seeming far enough away she need not fret for now.

“Thank you Solas. I don't know what I'd do without you.” she admitted.

“You are always welcome, Autumn.” his voice was rich and warm, like honey mingling with amber tea, soothing her into a contentment she had not felt since they had jumped through the eluvian.

She lay there, quietly enjoying his company, until sleep finally crept up on her and her eyes closed, the last thing in her vision being the endless night sky that didn't feel quite so empty any longer.

 


	91. I Will Tear Down the Heavens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a perfectly calm discussion followed by very mellow feelings.

****“The Inquisitor is awaiting you in the war room, sers.” the scout nodded politely as he took the reigns from Cullen's horse, informing them they were expected. He set his jaw, trying to control the rush of emotions rapidly overtaking him now that he had finally arrived.

Despite his efforts, his boots pounded against the steps as he made his way through the keep, stomping towards their destination with Leliana and Josephine close behind. On the long journey back to Skyhold, his anger had not managed to dissipate in the slightest, and he was wound up to the point of snapping at the least amount of provocation. He could tell the women behind him were tense, that they could sense his anger in the lines of his posture, had sensed it over the many miles they had traveled together, but he couldn't quite manage to care. He was finally here, and could see her again and make sure she was safe in order to yell at her for her foolish, foolish carelessness.

He pushed open the door to the war room and marched in. Autumn was there, as the scout had promised, her fingers idly picking at the little pieces they used to mark their various endeavors on the maps. She looked up, jumping slightly at his entrance, and a bright smile spread across her face. Even in his anger he felt his heart stutter to a standstill for a moment as those bright green eyes happily shone for him. He was far too gone in his distemper to be thrown from his intent, however, and he scowled at her. Her lips fell as her brow furrowed in confusion, her expression clouding with questions.

“Do you think I'm an idiot?” he demanded, the words spilling out of his mouth heedless to the fact that Josephine and Leliana were right behind him, would now be party to this argument. He couldn't help it, could no more stop this altercation than he could strike down the moon. This pressure had been building since he'd read her flippant words, and there was no dam that could stem its flow now.

Autumn blinked at him, puzzled and alarmed. “Cullen, what are you talking about?”

“It's the only reason I can come up with to explain why you thought 'no lasting injuries' was a sufficient explanation of what happened.” He crossed his arms, steeling himself against the hurt that flashed in her eyes.

“There _were_ no lasting injuries. As you can see, I'm perfectly fine.” She mirrored his posture, her tone switching to irritation so fast that he was surprised he didn't flinch.

“And you thought being nearly pummeled to death was not worth mentioning? Autumn, you were so injured Solas nearly _died_ healing you.” his voice broke over her name, but he held his stance. “And what about the fact that you raced off alone again, nearly getting yourself killed in the process?”

“Should I have ignored him then? Let Samson get away?” she snapped.

“You have an entire team of capable people following you around. Take even _one_ of them!” he ran his fingers through his hair, resisting the urge to place his hands on her shoulders and shake some sense into her stubborn little head.

“I didn't exactly have time to wait around, Cullen. I made a decision. Maybe it wasn't what _you_ would have done, but I did the best I could.” her fury washed over him, fueling his own, fire being thrown against fire until it threatened to engulf them all.

“He could have _killed_ you! Do you have so little regard for your own life that you can't see the danger in chasing after a madman on your own?”

She walked around the table towards him, fists curling angrily at her sides as she squared off in front of him. “I have _regard_ for what needs to be done! I understood that he needed to be stopped! And I did it! He's dead! What more do you want from me?!”

“I want you to be honest with me! I want you to be careful!” he was shouting now, his voice echoing alarmingly in the chamber around them.

“I _am_ careful! Do you think I wanted that? Do you think I enjoyed having my jaw shattered while that son of a bitch had his hands on me?! I don't have the luxury to tiptoe around, waiting for some valiant knight to ride in and fight my battles for me!” her voice had a shrill edge that cut through him like a knife, slicing into his animosity to reveal the molten core of fear and helplessness beneath.

“I know that! Don't you think I realize that every time I watch you ride away from me?! Every time you jump into danger where I cannot follow?!”

“Then why are you angry at me? Why are you treating me like you wish I were some damsel you could lock in a tower to keep safe?!”

“Because you almost died and you acted like it happens every day! Like nothing at all had gone wrong in that temple!”

“It _does_ happen every day! You read the reports, you've heard me talk about it! Why is this any different?”

“Listen to yourself! You act like it doesn't matter! Like you'd happily die just to see your enemy defeated!”

“Because I would, Cullen!”

The ringing aftershock of her shout hung heavy in the room, the silence that followed deafening. Cullen felt something fracture within him, something tenuous and delicate that had been holding onto all of his umbrage for him, a gossamer thread that had grown as fragile as glass. For a moment nobody dared to so much as breathe as the lovers stared each other down, outrage snapping between them like brittle branches thrown in a fire. Leliana cleared her throat awkwardly, the only indication that the other advisors were still there.

“Leave us.” Cullen snapped at them, never breaking his gaze from Autumn's. Josephine and Leliana complied without a word, shutting the door quickly behind them.

***

The door clicked shut softly, a whisper of a noise that was barely heard around the thundering in her chest. The heat in his eyes broke at the sound nonetheless, the set of his jaw crumbling as his face fell, anger dissipating into pain that filtered into the air and broke her heart a thousand times, morphing her indignation into searing sorrow. She closed the distance between them, hands gliding up across his chest to wrap around his neck and pull his head down to hers, foreheads meeting. He closed his eyes, hiding those golden globes from her view as he heaved a shuddering sigh.

“I know what you must do, I know that I must send you to him again...but I can't.... _Maker_.” his words failed him, and she could hear his throat constricting around the sounds, taught with the effort of keeping him from falling to pieces and slipping between her fingers.

“Cullen...” his name slipped past her lips easily, but any other things she might have said, might have wanted to say seemed scattered into the shadows of the room, the candlelight sweeping them away into the darkest corners so that she could not remember the words, could not think of the many ways she wanted to tell him she would be fine, she would endure. Perhaps it was because she didn't want to lie, and no matter how much she may wish it to be true, she couldn't quite bring herself to believe that she would be able to hear the songs they would sing of her victory. She had escaped death over and over again, and for what purpose did her luck serve than to allow her to complete this final task? Fate cared little for her heart, for the lives of the people it touched as it swept them all along in the endless sea of time. What thought would the universe have for the soul mate that she would leave behind, the friends who would have nothing but the pieces of their memories sticking in their tears as they all stared at the space she used to occupy in this life? She wished that she could promise him that she would always come back to him, that she would be there to hold him in the mornings, be there to meet him at the altar to say yes forever, to carry his children into this world and raise them with the love that filled her to the brim when she looked into his eyes. She wished that she could kiss him and tell him everything would be okay, but the words turned to ash in her mouth as she choked on the fact that she already had more than anyone deserved, she had already been granted more love and happiness than she could have ever imagined, and that at one point or another...everyone ran out of luck.

“I will never let you go.” he said, placing his hands on her cheeks and tilting her face so that she looked into his eyes, fierce and beautiful and determined. “You _will_ succeed, we _will_ face this together and prevail. I will tear down the heavens to ensure you remain with me, do not doubt me in this, and do not falter on your path. I am with you, and I'm so sorry if you were ever unsure of that.”

His lips stole her breath as the tears welled out of her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Hunger and need swelled up within her and she was overwhelmed with the relief that she would not need to lie, overwhelmed with the possibility that perhaps, when her luck ran out, she could lean on his, for if anyone was due an ounce of good fortune from fate it was Cullen Rutherford, the man who had lived through horrors untold and still managed to stand strong and proud beneath their crushing memories. His conviction to hold onto her poured into her through his touch, his hands winding through her hair as he held her lips to his, drinking each other in as desperately as they had the first time it had ever happened. She clung to him, fingers catching in the fur of his cloak as she pulled him closer, trying to become one with him through the barrier of all the layers they wore.

He reached down and roughly opened her shirt, buttons flying off, impatience keeping them from caring to undo the garment properly. She slipped it around her arms, growling irritably when it caught around her elbow. He offered his assistance, finishing the process for her while her hands abandoned the task to unbuckle his armor, fingers deft from the countless times they had performed this task before. As they disrobed one another she found herself being backed into the war table, thighs bumping against it and sending it rocking, tipping over several pieces that marked some mission or another, each a part of a bigger picture that at this very moment did not matter to either of them. Their clothing dropped on the floor, fabric rustling and metal armor clanking loudly against the background of bated breath and muted sighs. When their skin finally pressed together it was like jumping headfirst into eternity, silken and heated like the fires of the sun, made for each other so that they fit together perfectly.

He swept out his arm, sending pieces of Thedas flying across the room, and she laughed breathlessly at the idea of her troops suddenly finding themselves in Denerim before his lips swallowed the sound and he lifted her onto the table, climbing on top to press himself into her. Her vision exploded as he entered her without hesitation, her body expanding around him in delicious ecstasy that drove all other thoughts from her mind. He nibbled at her throat as he began pounding into her, fast and fluid and so frantic that she could do nothing but slip away with the sensations, drown in the pleasure of her connection with him that would save her, save her life and her soul and all the pieces that she thought she'd never find but had somehow collected since her hand had been marked. With every thrust of his hips he promised her salvation, and with every moan that tore from her throat she _believed_ him, believed that this was everything, that their love was enough to overcome even destiny. When she came, calling his name into the air and her ass grinding against the map, she believed that he was capable of anything, capable of doing as he said and tearing apart the world to ensure that she remained. She loved him, and he loved her, and damn the world and the gods and their fate, damn the doubters and the believers both, they were connected inexorably, perfectly, eternally, and that would be _enough_.

Afterward, after his hips had stuttered to a halt and he'd released himself into her, shattering in her arms and whispering her name against her skin, they had felt such a sense of overwhelming relief that she couldn't hold in the laughter. It bubbled out of her first, a grin working across her face as she braced her hands on his back. He'd looked at her quizzically for a moment, supporting himself with his arms on either side of her head, but his smirk won out and soon both of them were dissolved into fits of giggling so sweet, so bright it was a wonder they didn't drive the darkness from the room with their joy. He toppled to the side, falling off of her and covering Ferelden in sweat slicked muscles. She laughed so hard that her sides hurt, turning to him and putting her hands on his cheeks, holding him and laughing because of how much she loved him and how ridiculous it had been to ever imagine a future where they weren't together. Their bliss chased away the darkness and doubts for the evening, and for this moment she could rest and believe that everything was exactly as it should be and nothing would ever change that.

She was dozing languidly, eyes half lidded, when he started placing errant markers on her chest. They laughed together as the piece for Sutherland's troop toppled off her breast, skidding to a halt near her navel. She found a group of Leliana's scouts and moved it across the planes of his chest, then squealed when it was sent flying and he lunged at her, growling and running his fingers lightly across her sides, tickling her mercilessly until she couldn't breathe. She rolled him, turning them so that she pinned him to the table with her hips atop his, and she leaned forward to kiss him deeply.

As their arousal enveloped them once again, she found a way to make the promises she didn't feel she could before. They made love, and as she rode him she used her body to swear her life to him, swear that she would be his for eternity and never leave him. As they came apart together she knew that no matter what might come, no matter what horrors fate could bring, they would keep the promises they'd sealed with passion, the contract written in sweat and moans across their skin.

Love would be enough, they would make sure of it.

 


	92. BEES

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a bee related disaster shakes things up, relayed via letter.

_Little,_

_We have to go into hiding._

_\- Sera_

 

_Sera,_

_What?! From who? Are you okay?_

_\- Little_

_**_

_Autumn,_

_My dear, something must be done. I simply cannot stand by and allow her chaos to continue unchecked._

_In case no one had reminded you, the damage done to the great hall will cost a small fortune to repair, I have lost an absolutely priceless painting, and poor Blackwall’s beard may never grow back the same._

_We are prepared to hold a sit in if she is not punished._

_Sincerely,_

_Madame Vivienne_

 

_Viv,_

_Holy shit._

_I just came from the great hall._

_How did BEES do that?_

_\- Autumn_

 

_Autumn,_

_Apparently enchanting them with ice and fire produces very explosive effects._

_I admire the ingenuity, but once again Sera has failed to apply acceptable direction to her brilliance._

_\- Vivienne_

 

_Viv,_

_I’m exhausted, I was up very late for very specific reasons that I won’t go into detail about._

_Can I trust you to take care of this? WITHOUT murdering or maiming our troublesome archer?_

_\- Autumn_

_**_

_Sera,_

_It’s not so bad. I thought you were getting on with Vivienne okay now? You talk about her like you’re friends._

_In any case, we DID accidentally release a bunch of enchanted bees into the main hall. That one duke will definitely not be coming back anytime soon. Or ever._

_Maybe some oversight isn’t a terrible idea?_

_\- Little_

_**_

_Iron Lady,_

_Alright, she is not longer threatening to leap off the roof of the Herald’s Rest. Iron Bull only had to restrain her for about thirty minutes, which I think is a new record low for her fits._

_I think between me and Dagna we’ve convinced her that this won’t be such a bad idea._

_But if you hurt her we will kill you, so be aware of that. Ma’am._

_\- Varric_

_**_

_Sera,_

_I promise you that working with me will not be so bad as you imagine. I am aware you feel that I am a stuffy noble, but though we are different in many ways, we have the same goals._

_We both love the Inquisition, and we both love Autumn. I only wish to see to it that our actions work to the benefit of the things we love._

_That being said, your training will begin at the earliest possible availability. I look forward to working with you._

_Sincerely,_

_Enchanter Vivienne_

 

_Vivvy,_

_Fine. But only because Little wants me to._

_This is shite._

_\- Sera_

 

_Sera,_

_Lesson one: I am Madame de Fer, Madame Vivienne, Enchanter Vivienne, or on some occasions the Iron Lady by those I am fond of._

_I am not, nor shall I ever by, “Vivvy”._

_\- Vivienne_

 

_Vivvy,_

_Good._

_\- Sera_

_**_

_Boss,_

_Well, we are really going to have to find a better supplier for practice dummies at this rate. Vivienne just launched one up into the sky like a firework._

_Between her and Cass we might as well just keep a stockpile of extras in the armory._

_\- Bull_

 

 


	93. A Button

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a button was misplaced and chocolate frosting is wielded as a weapon.

It had taken them three full hours to fix the chaos they had caused to the war table. Autumn had been dismayed to discover that Cullen did not, in fact, have the placement of the markers memorized, and he simply hadn't thought that far ahead when he had wiped the board clear for their purposes. Even after all their hard work looking over reports in order to find where each little figurine went, they still found themselves blushing scarlet when Josephine wondered aloud the next morning why it was marked that she was in negotiations with the Avvar, flipping through her notes frantically as though afraid she had neglected something before Leliana's quiet giggle made what had happened clear to the crafty duo. Their pair of sly grins had driven poor Cullen to a blush more crimson than Autumn had ever seen as they teased them mercilessly.

“Why, Leliana, I do believe there is something amiss with our markers.”

“Indeed, Josie. I wonder whatever could have happened to them?”

“Perhaps a strong breeze? Or one of the staff has been toying with them while we were away?”

“Oh its quite possible, I'm sure. Wait...is that...does Ferelden look _flatter_ than it used to?”

“Oh my, why, yes it does. And just look at the state of the Frostbacks! They've been positively trampled!”

“And Josie, is that...could that be a _button_ placed over the Hinterlands?”

“It very much is, Leliana. Have we deployed any tailors in that area recently?”

“Certainly not to my knowledge. Has our war table been used as a bed, do you think?”

“Oh my, that would be _scandalous_ , Leliana. Who would do such a naughty thing to our very important strategic operations?”

“I imagine whoever they are, they must have been thoroughly out of control. Like animals.”

“Oh how very romantic. I should tell Varric of the idea! I'm sure it would make an excellent story for one of his books!”

At that Cullen had finally lost his composure, making a mumbled apology and some perfunctory excuse as he all but fled the room. Leliana and Josephine, thoroughly pleased with themselves, had dissolved in a fit of giggles as Autumn stood, speechless and blushing before them, unsure of what to say. When she had reached out and snatched her button away before following in Cullen's footsteps, their laughter had reached a near delirious pitch, ringing in her ears before the door behind her clicked shut and the sound was magically sealed away.

It had been a blissfully quiet the few days since then, aside from the great bee fiasco of the Great Hall. Leliana had people searching all of the possible places Corypheus could have retreated to, while a portion of Cullen's forces swept the last of the red templars out of the Arbor wilds as they slowly marched their way home. There were no more rifts to seal, no more problems to fix, and until they found Corypheus, Autumn was left with little to do. It was the perfect opportunity to spend time with those she loved, and everyone was sure to seize the chance once it had been provided.

Varric had surprised her by arranging the game of wicked grace, every single member of the inner circle in attendance. How he had coerced Solas and Vivienne to actually sit down and play would forever be a mystery to her, as he said that he refused to reveal his “trade secrets”, but she was delighted all the same to share in a night of relaxation and unwinding with everyone that she cared about. Cullen, apparently never able to learn the lesson of betting against dark skinned woman at a game of cards that he was woefully bad at, had somehow managed to get talked out of his clothes. Autumn had laughed hysterically as his flushed, and quite naked, form had sat across from her, begging Josephine for one more chance to win back his dignity. When he lost that too she had made him walk back to his office in his state of undress, Varric taking notes furiously the entire time “for science”. Autumn, about four cups past tipsy, had quietly excused herself to follow him, Leliana and Josephine launching into teasing the minute she did, although after the disaster that had been their violation of the war table she couldn't bring herself to be as embarrassed as she should. She'd slipped out of the room, the sounds of her dearest friends laughing at her expense chasing her heels, and made her way to Cullen's office, where she had done her very best to rally his spirits after such a humiliating defeat. If the blissful grin on his face at the end of the night had been any indication, she had succeeded with aplomb.

After that Cullen had decided it was well worth it to take some time off, passing off his duties to his underlings for the time being so that he could dedicate himself to enjoying time with her. They had spent nearly a week all but locked in her room, tangled together more often than not and memorizing each others giddy laughter. The only time they really left was to rush down to the kitchens and grab food, just often enough to keep themselves from wasting away after too much exertions. It was amazing, relaxing, like a blissful honeymoon, and the anger and tension they had felt after the Arbor Wilds just melted away, until it seemed so long ago that they could hardly remember it. She had apologized for being reckless and for not telling him everything, he had apologized for yelling at her and asking for more than she could give when he should have just promised that he would save her from the beginning (she'd resented the implication she needed rescuing, but her pique was weak in the face of the overwhelming relief at the idea that he would be by her side for whatever would come). Neither of them cared whether or not it was a promise that could be kept, because they both believed it would be, they both wanted it to be true, and so they would make it so, and that was the beginning and end of the matter as far as they were concerned.

Currently the afternoon sun was slanting in through the open balcony windows, a soft but steady breeze sending the curtains fluttering, casting filtered shadows across the room. It was a pleasantly temperate day, and Autumn was enjoying the delightful warmth of the sun splayed across her skin as she lay tangled in the sheets, almost perpendicular to her lover, back propped up on too many pillows and legs thrown over his hips while they took indulgent bites of a piece of cake the cooks had saved just for them. She stared at him unabashedly as he forked a piece of the moist confection, bringing his lips around it and closing his eyes as he savored the sweet, sugary perfection. He looked so amazingly content, and nearly as delicious as the cake itself as his blonde hair, curled beyond repair at this point, caught the sun and glittered like spun gold. They were far too exhausted to manage another round between the sheets, but if her legs had still worked, watching him hum with appreciation over chocolate frosting would have sent her over the edge easily. It was ridiculous how he could make eating dessert look like a _sin_.

He caught her expression and gave her a smug little smirk, that damnable smile that hat started it all. The scar on the side of his lip worked its way up, his golden eyes dancing with mirth. He raised his eyebrow at her, a silent taunt, letting her know that he knew exactly what she had been thinking. Reaching over she took her finger and gathered a hefty portion of frosting. Before he could react she deposited it on the tip of his nose, smearing it down and across part of his cheek for good measure. She giggled helplessly as he wrinkled his nose in reaction, ducking away from her hand far too late to prevent the smudge. She squealed when he practically tossed the plate aside, pouncing on her and peppering her face with kisses so that within moments she was decorated with just as much chocolate confection as he was. He laughed as he looked down at her, a rich, warm, full bodied sound that she would never, ever get tired of hearing, and she could only return it with her own, cheeks burning with the force of the smile on her face.

His lips brushed against hers, silencing her effectively, and he deepened the kiss slowly, submerging her in love that made her heart skip beats even after all this time. No matter how many times he kissed her like this, she was always awash in awe over her luck, over the sheer level of revelry that she could get out of so simple a gesture. He pulled back, amber eyes taking in every feature of her face before meeting her own, treasuring her with the small sigh that escaped his swollen lips.

“Marry me.” he murmured, kissing her again as her breath flew out of her chest.

“What?” she asked, because she was dumbstruck and foolish and couldn't fathom that this man had just said that to her, that this moment was at all real.

“I don't have a ring.” he continued, kissing along her jaw lightly. “I don't have a noble title or any status I could offer you.” his lips were driving her mad with their gentle, soft caress, her whole body being dipped headfirst into an impossible inferno by his words. “But I can give you my heart and soul, and promise to love you for the rest of eternity. And so,” his kisses trailed back up to her lips, resting there for only a moment, not long enough at all, before he pulled back and let his eyes swallow her up. She felt like she was sinking slowly into a warm, honey sweetened sunbeam that could carry her away if she weren't careful, carry her off into a world of perfection where the only thing that would ever matter was the pair of arms wrapped around her right now, and the lips that still tasted of cake that spoke such nonsense to her addled heart. “Autumn Trevelyan, leader of the Inquisition, Herald of Andraste, stubborn rogue and love of my life,” he let out a small breath that shook hesitantly, the first time he had shown any nerves at all, and her heart melted at the idea that he could possibly be afraid to ask her this question. “Will you do me the honor of allowing me to marry you?”

For what felt like forever she couldn't form a single coherent thought. She stared up at the man she loved and couldn't even bring herself to breathe around the tightness in her chest. It wasn't until the light in his eyes started to dim, his nervousness switching over to full anxiety, before she managed to find her head again and put it to use gathering words. “Yes! Maker, Cullen, yes a thousand times!” she grabbed his face and pulled it back to hers, devouring his lips in an effort to make up for her long pause that must have been torturous to him. He returned the affection with gusto, and together they tumbled on the bed, hair askew, chocolate frosting coating their faces, easy laughter spilling from their lips in between each kiss. It was not traditional, there were no grand gestures, no ring held up on bended knee, but to Autumn it was perfect. She loved this man, and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, and there wasn't anything that could possibly make this moment better than it already was.

For the second time since he had arrived home, Autumn decided that in the end, no matter what happened, no matter what obstacles she might face or monsters she may have to fight, no matter what fate had in store for her, in the end the only thing that would matter was that their love would be enough.

 


	94. His Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a meeting occurs and an unexpected challenge is issued.

_Inquisitor,_

_Thank you._

_Thank you for running into the eluvian after me when you could have easily ignored my plight, thank you for helping me look for Kieran even though it was dangerous to linger in such a place, and thank you for standing up to Flemeth when she threatened to take him from me. He is my son, the only piece I have left of things I will likely never get back, and you cannot know how much it means to me that you would seek to protect him even after learning of his beginnings. I am aware that what happened has given us both much to think about, but I am grateful beyond measure for your gracious response to the affair. If there is any way that I can repay you, you have only to ask._

_Sincerely,_

_Morrigan_

 

_Morrigan,_

_Don't think of it. I did what any self respecting person would do. I know you probably didn't meet many of those in Orlais, but rest assured they do exist. I'm glad that Kieran is safe. I don't know what exactly it means to have a mother whose an ancient elven god (being? Demon? I need to ask Solas what he thinks), but it can't be easy for you, especially not after the Well._

_I meant what I said, however. You are welcome to stay with us as long as you wish, even after Corypheus has been defeated. I will make sure Flemeth does not take from you anything you are not willing to give, you have my word on that. And the only repayment I would ask for is your help against Corypheus. That's all I ask of anyone who joins the Inquisition, really, and I don't see any reason to break this trend now._

_And please, call me Autumn. I think we've been through enough that we can be on a first name basis, wouldn't you agree?_

_-Autumn_

 

_Autumn,_

_The depths of your compassion know no bounds, truly._

_I appreciate the offer, and I will take it into consideration, although I am sad to say my intent is to leave when this is all over, so unless circumstances change I will have to decline. I would not be overly fond of the idea of forcing you into conflict with Flemeth, either. She is not someone one trifles with lightly, and you bear enough burdens without shouldering mine._

_Until then, however, I stand with you, and I am prepared to face our foe as soon as we are able._

_-Morrigan_

***

They had met. Through all of the possibilities, though all the paths that her fate had taken her, he had not expected them to meet. As he paced across the rim of his painted solar, the walls colored in honor of her deeds and life, he tried to decipher the maelstrom of meaning that this event had foisted upon his heart. The day grew long and still around him, but he could not settle, because things had been stirred within him that would not cease.

It worried him, that Mythal had come to see Autumn. It was true, that it had been for Kieran, for whatever purpose she had with the boy that she did not deign to share with him. Yet Autumn had found her way to her nonetheless, stood brazen in defiance of her will. That would not be forgotten. Her long memory reached deeply into the void, holding on to the pieces of time that she grasped with tightened fists. Those that fell into that grasp did not often fare well when released.

He couldn’t explain the angry resentment that he had towards his centuries long friend. All that he knew was that her nearness to Autumn filled him with loathing, something dark in the back of his mind promising that it was an ill omen. He reached for the feeling, trying to shake it and force it to explain, but it slipped out of his grasp each time, darting to the shadows and sinking in the fog. He felt like he was missing something, missing something that he _should_ know. Missing something important, that had been everything at one point and now was lost, to the ages, to his sleep, to the mountain of regret piled high on his soul.

The disquiet in his heart kept him from enjoying their relative peace. Their meeting served as a reminder. A reminder of what he stood for. Things which he did not wish to think of, did not wish to bring to the forefront of his mind. Remembering forced him to answer questions, forced him to look at the problems of his own making. Problems that he had no solution to.

His will had not changed, but then it had. His purpose had not changed, but he wanted it to.

Now Mythal had made her presence known, a subtle message that she knew where he was, that she knew who he held dear. A threat, stitched across the worry in Autumn’s brow as she asked him questions that he could not answer. This meeting was his warning, and fear clenched around his gut, an iron vice keeping him from sitting still and thinking. He was swallowed by it, driven to indecision and inaction, drowning in a swamp of doubt. His magic was on her hand, bound to her soul on levels that did not bear description, for no words existed to explain them. It was his decisions that had brought them to this point, but Mythal’s arrival made him question that reality. It made him fear the worst, though he could not give a name to what that was.

He had always thought that he had been the one to mark her, to obscure her destiny with his bumbling and his follies. Perhaps he was not so guilty as it had seemed.

The thought was not a comfort.

***

She tossed her cards down on the table, slamming her fist on top of them before leaping out of her chair. “You _have_ to be cheating!” she pointed an accusatory finger at Varric, even as his face split into a massive grin.

“Now, now, Hummingbird. You should know by now, I'm a man of honor!” his teeth gleamed white between his lips as he started to chuckle. “Just because Curly's abysmal luck is rubbing off on you doesn't mean you get to go around throwing false accusations like that.”

“Bastard.” She sat back down, not quite suppressing her own grin. He'd manage to take a large sum of money from her this afternoon, and if she wasn't careful the others at the table might start insisting she bet her clothes. After Cullen's unfortunate performance the other night, it had become a regular threat for the least successful person at the table to be urged to start betting garments. Autumn, however, knew when to call it quits, and while it would be infinitely entertaining for her to see the faces of her soldiers if she were forced to race back to her room naked, she was fairly certain her fiancee might protest.

_Fiancee_. That word still felt strange to her, still felt so unreal whenever she associated it with her golden Commander. They hadn't told anyone about their engagement, neither of them wanting to reveal it to their friends until after Corypheus was defeated and they could celebrate in earnest, and the fact that it was their little secret seemed to make it all the more surreal. Sometimes she was convinced that she had imagined the entire thing, but then she'd catch a bright little smile from Cullen across the room, and she'd know without a doubt that he was thinking the exact same thing, and it made her heart sing within her.

“Come on, lovey, let's leave this miser to his greed. I feel I've lost enough money for one afternoon.” Dorian stood, offering her his arm politely.

“Hey! I resent that!” Varric cried in mock offense, pulling his winnings closer to his end of the table so he could start tallying them up.

“You would be more convincing if you weren't already counting that coin.” Cassandra told him archly, the barest hint of a smile gracing her lips.

Varric scowled. “I never see anyone besmirching _your_ name when you win.”

“I would never cheat.” she leaned back in her chair, relaxing and smiling in the face of Varric's indignation.

“I didn't cheat! What makes you think I would be a cheater?” he cried.

Cassandra held up her hand, ticking the reasons off on her fingers. “You lie, you hate losing at cards, you told half of Skyhold you wanted to make some extra money to buy that ridiculous crossbow embellishment, you lie...”

“You said that one already.” he crowed.

She grinned at him. “Because it bears repeating.”

Autumn smiled at Dorian as she took his arm and they strolled out of the great hall and into the courtyard, the sound of their friends bickering fading in their ears as the wind swirled around them. It was another beautiful day, the sky a brilliant azure field with flocks of birds racing to and fro, serenading the people below as they went about their day.

“Do you think they'll ever get over themselves long enough to realize they're perfect for each other?” Dorian asked her, cheeky grin making the mustache above his lips shift.

She let out a loud laugh at the idea. “Those two? Never. They're the most stubborn pair I know.”

“Hm, stranger things have happened.” he returned thoughtfully.

“True. I did hear about a Tevinter mage shacking up with a Tal-vashoth, which would certainly be considered implausible by a great many people, I'm sure.”

He bristled. “We are not _shacking up_. Ugh, for a noblewoman you're incredibly uncouth sometimes.”

“You love my filthy mouth.” she bumped her shoulder into his playfully.

“Not half as much as Cullen does, I'd wager.” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at her, and she rewarded his comment with a swat to his chest. He let out a soft 'ooph', feigning injury as she shook her head at him.

Her response was ripped from her mind as the scream tore from her throat, molten pain lancing through her arm as the anchor in her palm sang in agony. She fell to the ground, clutching uselessly at her arm and writhing, inhaling dirt as she heaved massive breaths between each cry of anguish. She was blind with it, the sickly torment of her hand scalding beyond anything that she could remember feeling before, the smell of singed flesh dark against her senses. Her arm felt like the bones were heating from within, like the the nerves were burning away inch by miserable inch and that she would whittle away into a pile of ash that the wind and the rain would wash into the dirt below. She could feel the air around her exploding, tingling drops of magical energy pelting against her skin, the roar of some unseen maelstrom rocking against her ears, but it was all secondary in her awareness because she couldn't focus on anything beyond the convulsions running up and down her limb.

There was screaming, cries from people not four paces away but so distant sounding that they could have been across the Waking Sea, and then toned arms were wrapped around her, lifting her into the air. She bucked against them involuntarily, fingernails digging into her arm in an effort to press down on the pain, a vague urge to claw away her flesh in order to tear away the source of the stinging grief. She ground her teeth together, unsuccessfully trying to keep another scream from bursting out of her mouth, throat already raw and damaged from their force.

She felt her awareness start to waver further, her mind start to slip into a place somewhere between waking torture and blissful oblivion. She couldn't bring herself to focus, and wasn't sure she even wanted to. Autumn hovered on the edge of infinite pain and began to wonder if anything even existed beyond the fire in her veins.

***

He heard her screams before he heard anything else. Solas recognized the sound of her voice even under the distortion of pain it was filtered through. The paintbrush he had been holding clattered to the ground, cheery yellow paint splattering across the floor like bits of a canary's feathers scattered on the wind. His feet were already flying through the halls, driving him towards the sound that made his chest hitch and his mind reel. He had only gone a few steps before the world seemed to draw a great breath, the air suddenly alight with the prickling of powerful magic surging out of the veil. He stumbled, a hand flying up to grasp at the wall as his balance wavered, the atmosphere around him suddenly charged amid air too thin to gather his breath.

More screams were coming from outside the keep, but the only thing Solas could truly hear were hers, tearing through the air like an arrow before they buried themselves into his stuttering heart. He found his footing again, far too slowly to satisfy the sneering impatience making his hands shake, and began rushing forward, the stone cold beneath the skin of his soles. He raced into the great hall and met Dorian as the mage carried her through the massive doorway, his arms taught with the strain of holding her seizing form. The light filtering in behind them had taken on a ghastly green hue, but Solas hardly noticed as he took in her grimace of pain, another scream pushing past her lips as she gripped her arm, flesh around the palm of her hand emitting faint trails of smoke.

Dorian's eyes met his and his face seemed to collapse with relief. “Solas!” he said, but it was unnecessary. He was already rushing to her side, placing a hand on her forehead in a vain effort to soothe whatever it was that ailed her.

“What the fuck happened?” Varric asked, sweeping the remains of a card game off his table and motioning them forward. Dorian gratefully deposited Autumn onto the surface, her body still twisting as she clutched her hand to her chest.

“She just...she just started screaming, and then I think the sky exploded, I'm not entirely sure.” Dorian huffed, his eyes clouded with worry.

Cassandra wordlessly strode around the table and out the door as Solas pulled Autumn's arm from her chest, attempting to examine it even as she tried to wrench it away. The skin around her palm was red and blistered, smoke hissing off the areas closest to the mark with a sickening sizzle. He cast a healing spell, adding a hint of ice for good measure, and the area seemed to calm. The wrinkles on her brow eased slightly, the tension in her body relaxing from his efforts.

“The breach! It's re-opened!” Cassandra snapped as she raced back in. Her hands were balled into shaking fists as she looked at their leader's prone form.

“Her mark is expanding again, then.” Solas said quietly, running his hands along her arm, feeling the skin there that was too hot to be hale. He focused on casting more cooling magic, massaging the spell into the flexed muscles until he felt their tension release. She sighed in relief as her eyes fluttered open, locking with his. He felt guilty as his hands continued their delicate work, but he forced himself to meet her gaze, to think about the task at hand rather than how soft she felt beneath his fingers.

“What happened?” she croaked, her beautiful voice now raspy in her damaged throat.

“It appears the breach has been opened once more.” he told her, as calmly as he was able. She closed her eyes, nodding her understanding. He could tell by the sweat beading against her brow that she was still in pain, but she made no mention of it as she sat up, gently pulling away from his touch.

“Will one of you help me to the war room and make sure the council is on the way, if they aren't already?” She swung her feet over the edge of the table, slowly easing down until they came in contact with the ground. She seemed to waver there for a moment while Solas hesitated to step forward, unwilling to wrap his arms around her lest his heart cease to beat at the contact. It was too much, seeing her in pain and being so close, too much temptation to bring her damaged palm to his lips and kiss away the grief it brought her, the torture of the cursed mark carved into her skin.

His mark.

Cassandra stepped in while he balked, wrapping her lithe arm around the smaller woman and leading her towards their destination. Solas watched them go for only a moment before he turned and walked outside, intent to see for himself if the breach marred the sky once more. As he stared up at the green in the air, a swirling storm of magic and destiny, he felt himself tremble at what it might mean.

It was Corypheus’ doing, of that he had no doubt, and he trembled before the knowledge that brought him, the surety that their time was finally at hand. Autumn would face him, and he could only hope the will of fate was not cruel enough to make it the last thing she did.

 


	95. Meant For Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we prepare for the final showdown.

He'd been in his office when he heard the scream, carrying across the battlements like a clarion call of ill portent, slicing through the air and his nerves alike to promise doom upon all the world. He'd known without needing to look exactly whom the sound had come from, and his chair was sent clattering to the floor as he jumped out of it, running towards the clamor on feet that seemed too slow and clumsy by far. When the sky had exploded, the breach tearing open above the ruins of Haven once more, he had nearly toppled over the edge of the stone walkway as the atmosphere keened all around him. By the time Cullen righted himself and made it into the great hall, she had already been carried into the war room, but the look on Varric's face told him everything that he needed to know about whether or not she was alright.

When he rushed into the chamber it was a small relief that she was sitting upright in a chair of her own accord, but the tension in her jaw belied her calmer posture, as she grit her teeth against whatever distress she was in. Leliana and Josephine had already arrived, and Cassandra hovered over her like a mother hen, scowling at the floor as she paced quick little pathways with no purpose or destination.

“You've seen the sky?” Leliana asked him bluntly as he knelt in front of Autumn, brushing her hair out of her face so that he could get a good look into her eyes. They were dark with worry, pupils dilated as she struggled against the pain she must be feeling, for no person screamed as she had without suffering immense pain. Shadows of fear and shock moved like storm clouds over the evergreen hills of her gaze. He could see no obvious injury, but that was far less comfort than he would have liked.

“Yes.” he told her tersely, sparing only a glance in her direction before he spoke to Autumn. “Are you alright?”

“The mark is expanding again, so my arm feels like its melting. But other than that, sure, I'm peachy.” she ground out, strained smile turning to grimace as the mark sparked and sputtered. She closed her eyes, shuddering and clutching the offending limb to her chest. He could smell roasted skin and his stomach rolled at what that meant.

The door behind them was thrown open, making all of them jump as Vivienne swept hastily into the room, brandishing a small vial of liquid as though it were a weapon. Her eyes found Autumn and she strode forward, heels clicking against the hard ground.

“Darling, here. This will help.” she handed the bottle off. Autumn went to reach for it but her body shook with another wave of agony and she crumpled in on herself, hand snapping back to cradle her arm once more. Vivienne's face fell as she looked on, concern overtaking her normally stoic expression, calm veneer shattered with uncertainty. She pulled the cork out of the bottle herself, touching her fingers under Autumn's chin to lift her face. “Here, love. That's it, good girl.” she cooed, emptying the vial down Autumn's throat.

Autumn pulled a face of disgust, sticking her tongue out comically. “Ugh, Viv, that's awful.” she coughed weakly, but Cullen noted that the fist clenched around the mark seemed to ease, and her breathing started to come in more even intervals.

“Yes, well potions meant to combat powerful magics rarely taste of sweetness, my dear.” Vivienne stood up and smiled magnanimously down at her.

“I would have settled for just plain bitter.” Autumn shook her head, sounding more like herself, and Cullen released a breath he hadn't known he was holding.

“Hush, it will help combat the effects the breach has on the anchor. For the time being, at any rate.” Vivienne frowned at the end of her comment, crossing her arms in disapproval of both the situation and the ineffectiveness of her remedy.

“How did the breach re-open?” Josephine asked, her light voice shaking as she wrung her hands.

“I expect much the same way it opened the first time.” Morrigan's voice carried in from the doorway as she sauntered in. “Corypheus, it seems, is no longer content to wait until you find him.”

Cullen felt fear clench tightly in his belly, vines of doubt and anxiety tangling in his chest. It was happening, then, the moment they had been hiding from over the last blissful days. He was not ready, was not ready to march her off to face him, not ready for the conflict that could put his entire world to an end. He promised that he would save her, stand with her, protect her...but he was but a man, and until she had come into his life he'd been a broken one at that. Broken in ways he'd never known until she reached out with her smile and put all the pieces of his soul back together, mending him and making him stronger, better, braver, more so than he had ever been alone He was different now that she completed him, but he worried things would still end up the same, that the same outcomes would come of whatever efforts he made. He had failed a thousand times in his life to protect the things he loved, failed time after time to keep disaster from claiming the world around him. Was determination enough to prevent tragedy this time? His will could be iron, but in the face of such overwhelming odds, would it grow brittle and snap, humble twigs underfoot in the steady march of fate?

“Cass, round everybody up. We've been invited to a party, it seems.” Autumn said, and though her voice was low it carried such authority that it echoed in their ears. He looked into her eyes and saw resolve, steely and strong, unwavering now that her moment had finally arrived. She met his gaze, her eyes shining with purpose, and in that moment Cullen forced himself to believe. She was meant for this, and if he was meant for her, meant for her in the way he felt in his heart when he looked in her eyes, brushed against her lips, meant for her from the moment he'd left Honnleath to join the templars and start down the dark road that carried him to her feet, if he was truly meant for _her_ , then he was surely meant for this as well. She had carried them, stumbling and crying, lifted them out of the darkness when all hope was lost. She had stood before every obstacle and come back from death countless times, and now she _would_ do it once more. He would believe, and if he was wrong, if she faltered in this and could not bring them back on her own, then he would take up the task in her stead and keep her from the sacrifice he would not allow her to make. _Together_ they would do this, with her fate blessed by the Maker and his determination to see her through. _It would be enough_.

She stood, shaking out her arm as though releasing the last vestiges of lingering strain, and wound her way around the people standing before her and out the door. He trailed after her immediately, his footsteps oddly even against the erratic tempo of his heart.

“You know I'm coming with you, right?” He told her, giving her a sideways glance to measure her reaction.

She grinned, a smile of satisfaction that was fierce across her face. “I suppose I can't just lock you in a tower to keep you safe?”

He chuckled, the echo of their argument only serving to remind him of how desperately he would protect her. “Not a chance. We stand together, in this and everything else that will come after.”

She nodded, taking his hand as they entered the great hall. She gave it a firm squeeze before she let it go, turning to head towards the armory and ready herself to leave. Cullen began walking in the opposite direction, towards his office where his things were stored. He soon found Varric striding alongside him, buckling the belt that held his explosives around his waist.

“So...no army joining us this time?” the dwarf asked him.

“They aren't all back from the Wilds yet.” he tossed Varric a cavalier grin. “It's just us and her.”

“You coming too?” Varric's eyebrows rose.

“Wouldn't miss it.”

“Well, shit, Curly. Somebody better tell Corypheus his chances of living just got smaller.” Varric gave him a wave as he turned off, heading towards the library to no doubt cut through to the stables. He left out the other door leading from Solas' solar, glancing down at the gathering group below. Bull saw him crossing the walkway and waved, letting out a loud, unintelligible yell as he did. Cullen just pumped a fist in the air in acknowledgment, a satisfactory answer apparently, as Bull let out another loud whoop. Cullen shook his head as he reached his office.

As he dressed for battle he felt the fear drain out of him. Buckling his armor and hefting his shield onto his back gave him a sense of peace, of certitude that he had not felt before. What will come will come, he thought, and he would meet it with a steady hand.

***

Dorian yelped as strong arms encircled him around the waist, dragging him backwards into one of the stable stalls. He gave Bull a disapproving glower as his lover deposited him against the wall, bracing one arm against the wood while the other pressed into the small of his back, pushing him flush against the bigger man. Bull's lips curved upward in a smile, his green eye running up and down Dorian's face in a way that made his cheeks heat under the regard.

Dorian opened his mouth to speak but Bull's lips firmly silenced him, gently moving them open for a deep kiss that made a small whimper wind out of his throat while his eyes rolled back into his head. Bull pulled back, nibbling his lower lip lightly before chuckling, satisfied at the reaction his efforts had elicited. His hand left the wood beside Dorian's head to wrap itself around his cheek, thumb brushing gently against his skin. “I love you, kadan.” Bull's voice was low and sweet, thrumming from his chest like the sonorous notes of a sultry cello.

It was not the first time he'd made such a confession, but the effect of the words was no less potent than it had been originally. Dorian smiled up at him, joy welling in his chest at his luck, at his amazing good fortune to have stumbled into this Inquisition and found so much more than he could have ever imagined. He joined because it was the right thing to do, because he couldn't stand by and watch his homeland ruin everything, but he'd somehow managed to gain a family, a group of friends who accepted him for exactly who he was, and a lover who was sweet and kind and everything Dorian had been positive that he would never be allowed to have.

He kissed Bull again, running his tongue along his lips as the Qunari sighed into his mouth, blissfully enjoying their affections. It was tender and loving, pure perfection concentrated in just that small brush of lips in a dingy horse stall. It was everything to Dorian, and worth fighting for a thousand times over. He would take down any magister that tried to come between him and this wonderful, sappy man in front of him.

“I love you, too, amatus.”

The smile Bull gave him was radiant, and Dorian could not help but return it. “Stay alive out there.”

Dorian snorted a laugh. “I fully intend to. Don't do anything reckless.”

Bull barked a short laugh. “Why don't I just promise to live?”

“Add making it out in one piece and you have a deal.”

They sealed their promises with another kiss, and all too soon their tender moment was over as the party finished preparing and they were forced to set out.

 


	96. I Don't Need the Maker's Favor to Kick Your Ass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it begins.

It generally took a small force of people a day and a half to reach Haven from Skyhold on horseback. Somehow, using their fastest mounts, running them half ragged into the ground, Autumn and her team managed to cut it down to only twelve hours. By the time she was leaping out of the saddle, her horse's flanks were heaving, covered in froth from overexertion, but they had made it before things had gotten worse, before the breach could spawn more rifts and unleash demons into the terrified world below.

Her arm was still on fire. She could feel the anchor stretching beneath her skin, slowly expanding with every passing hour and sending new waves of pain searing through her. She had downed at least three of the potions Vivienne had made, irritably waving off the enchanter's worried expression every time she had asked for another. Vivienne had cautioned that she shouldn't take too many of them, that it would wreak havoc on her system, but Autumn had no other option than to ignore the risk. She was already waiting as long as possible in between doses, holding out until the pain grew so bad as to threaten to knock her off her horse. She couldn't afford to lose herself to the malady like that. She _had_ to keep taking them to be able to function, to keep her from withering into a useless pile of sobbing misery. She couldn't give in, not now, not when it was finally time. They had driven Corypheus to the edge, driven him past his veil of perceived godhood until his patience had snapped and he'd made his move, motivated by defeat and desperation. She may not have her army with her, but neither did he, and she had a great deal more favor on her side, riding behind her in the form of her wonderful friends.

The snow on the ground was awash with the green light shining from the sky, glittering as it mingled with the sun and making the whole world appear to be frozen in a veridium crystal. It crunched under her feet as she pressed through, one foot after the other sinking in to her shins as she trampled her way into the temple. The thunder overhead drowned out the sound of their labored breathing, lightning flickering in bright flashes that blinded them momentarily as they wound their way across the valley. There were no demons, nor were there animals or people, the entire vista an abandoned graveyard where nothing stirred, the world at large holding its breath as it waited to see what would happen.

She saw him as she slogged to the top of the last rise, the sun dancing through the ashes in the sky and mingling with the magic to create dual toned rainbows, streaming in arcs in her peripheral vision. He was standing in the very center of the blackened rubble, stone pulsing emerald with a magical heartbeat that sent shudders of power rippling through the air. He stood there and watched, waiting for her to arrive, because he knew that she would, had known it would come to this from the first time they had met in this hallowed ground. This stunt served no other purpose than to draw her out, to force her to face him once and for all so they could finally decide whose power was greatest, whose destiny had been won through the battles across the scarred land, which one of them held fortune and which would be scorned by fate.

Autumn drew her daggers, hearing the hiss of the leather as her anchor wrapped around the hilt, a quiet reminder of her pain and her purpose as she marched steadily towards the darkness she'd railed against so long. She did not run, caution keeping her from racing in blindly, but neither could she sneak in or slow her pace. Her feet took the rhythm from her steadfast pulse and evenly tapped it into the ground as she moved, unchanging and unwavering as they brought her closer and closer to this encounter of fate. She locked eyes with him, and his twisted face contorted in a sneer, red lyrium hide shining almost black in the jade light.

“I knew you would come!” he cried triumphantly, throwing his hands in the air as though her appearance had pronounced him victorious. “I always knew you would come! Tell me, Herald, does you god walk with you? Will you call for his favor when I grind your skull beneath my heel?”

“I don't need the Maker's favor to kick your ass.” she snarled. He grinned at her, leering in overconfidence, so self assured that she would fail. She let out a growl, low in her throat that reverberated through her chest, across her skin, all the way to the tips of her fingers where they clenched her weapons tight. Then she screamed, a dare to the heavens to fall around them if they dared, and she was racing forward to face him for the final time.

***

Cullen saw her take off running and in an instant he was after her, feet pounding to make up for the ground he had lost in the half second it had taken him to realize what she was doing. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Solas join him, nimbly winding through the rubble at their feet as they gained on Autumn, who had nearly reached their ancient foe.

The magister threw up his hands, clawed fingers wrapped around the orb as he held it aloft, and Cullen felt the fizzle of magic being drawn from the air around them, pulling from the potential of the bleeding veil. The orb sucked the power in, and for a brief moment the world was still, everything hanging on the precipice of what would happen, the last crystallized moment before gravity would force them all to fall into the chasm of action. Then energy exploded outward and everyone in the bowl was knocked backwards, sliding in the ash and grit as the ground beneath them shattered, shaking violently.

It was impossible to find purchase, to find balance in the trembling atmosphere, and it was all Cullen could to just to hang on, to keep from losing himself to the vertigo and passing out in the dust. With mounting horror he realized they were _rising_ , the patch of earth immediately surrounding them being lifted into the air by some unseen force, defying the laws of physics as it ascended towards the breach above. He looked around as best he could, relieved to see both Autumn and Solas on the ground not far away, both of them disoriented but otherwise unharmed. The comfort over that was short lived, however, as he quickly became aware of the fact that none of the others were on the platform with them.

As the stone beneath them finally came to a lurching halt, sending Cullen's stomach into an unsteady somersault, they heard the reverberating cry of the archdemon from somewhere in the sky. He swallowed roughly at the realization that it was not coming from above them, but rather below, meaning they were quite a ways above where the ground should still be. The three of them quickly climbed to their feet, weapons drawn as they faced the magister, the screech of his dragon echoing unnervingly in their ears. When another cry rang out, richer and almost taunting in its timbre, Corypheus' face fell for just a moment. He looked up just as his archdemon flew by, chased by a glistening purple dragon that Cullen could only assume was Morrigan, combating the threat with the power of the Well of Sorrows within her.

Corypheus turned towards Autumn, another sneer slipping across his grotesque features. “A dragon. Very clever, Herald. More's the pity that cleverness will not save you.” He lifted an empty hand, red lightning sparking between his fingers. Cullen took a step forward, making his way to Autumn to shield her, but he was too far away to be of any real use. She saw the danger and dove to the side, but Corypheus anticipated the move and followed her, flinging the deadly spell with precision. The attack burst into a flood of riotous color as it crashed into a barrier, Solas' arm still held out from the throwing save. It shattered the magical shield, but left Autumn otherwise unscathed as she skid across the ground away from his aim.

Corypheus attention turned to Solas, infuriated that his advantage had been spoiled. Solas stood, soot smeared across his pale skin, and stared at Corypheus without flinching, holding out his staff as his face contorted in rage.

“ _Elf_.” Corypheus snarled, wielding the word like an insult.

“You will not have her.” Solas growled, snapping his teeth around the last syllable as though it were spoken through fanged jaws, sharp points of feral rage ready to sink into their foe.

Corypheus summoned a spell into the palm of his hand again, crackling red fury that danced ominously. “I will have what is my due!” he cried, and flung the spell. Solas brought his staff up, deflecting the blow with a shower of sparks. Corypheus immediately launched another, and another, and Solas swung his weapon back and forth, catching the magic and keeping it from landing any hits, embers flying into the air around them and blurring the shadows as the light danced erratically. Cullen could hardly see, they were moving so fast, magic searing the air as they cast back and forth. He stopped trying to follow the attacks and moved forward, as quickly as he dared, and tried to work his way behind Corypheus. He could only hope the darkspawn was too focused on Solas to notice.

 


	97. Run!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which battle ensues.

They watched the two separate battles rage across the sky, nerves shot from anxiety and helplessness. They'd been thrown back when Corypheus cast that first spell, none of them close enough to rise with the chunk of temple that he'd pulled into the air, cutting them off from the trio now fighting a thousand feet above their heads. Dorian could see the flashes of spells being cast, but from their vantage point he was unable to make out who was casting, nor what effect the magic had, if any.

His attention was pulled abruptly to the dragons racing across the sky by another keening cry, the deadened brown flesh of the archdemon a gruesome blur as it soared overhead, chased by the glittering amethyst of Morrigan's draconian form. She had taken off seconds after Autumn had been raised into the atmosphere, chasing after the archdemon before the rest of them even knew it was there. They wove through levitating debris, flitting in and out of view before Morrigan managed to snag the beast, tangling with it in a deadly dive. The cacophony of shrieks was deafening, and Dorian had to clap his hands over his ears to block out some of the sound as it loudly stabbed a path through his brain.

He kept his eyes glued to the pair as Morrigan's jaws clenched into the joint of the archdemon's wing, shaking her head back and forth and tearing at it. It extended the wing, flapping uselessly for a moment before something appeared to snap, and it bent the wrong way, sending them into a wild spin that blurred them beyond distinction. His eyes grew wide, not even blinking as he watched them hurtle towards the ground, a spectacular show of color and speed.

“ _Shite! Run!_ ” Sera's command snapped him out of his reverie, and with a growing sense of panic he estimated that the trajectory of the careening creatures would land them right on top of the group. Dorian spun, launching himself away from the clearing as fast as his feet could carry him, sweat dripping down his back with the effort. He didn't dare look back until a massive crash shook the ground around them, dust and stone flying into the air as two massive bodies slammed into the floor with enough force to carve craters in their wake.

When he turned he saw the archdemon crawling to its feet, hardly looking the worse for wear despite its perilous descent. At first he thought that Morrigan had simply disappeared, the only thing remaining of her being the hollow left behind from her fall, but just visible through the clouds of ash he could make out her prone form, returned to the lithe human shape, barely moving on the ground. She struggled momentarily, trying to rise, before sinking into the dirt and laying entirely still. The archdemon moved over to her, wing hanging awkwardly at its side but otherwise unharmed.

Bright blue light flared as Vivienne darted in front of Morrigan, placing herself and a thin magic barrier between the unconscious witch and the archdemon. The dragon roared, the air vibrating with heat and rage, scuffing one great claw in the dirt as it stared down the comparably small enchanter.

“Now!” Vivienne ordered them, and the rest of them erupted into a flurry of activity. Dorian started pulling magic into his staff, spinning his weapon to prep the spell, drawing from his will to summon fire forth from nothing. He saw Sera slide forward on her knees, embers dancing around her body from one of her tempest potions, before she released a trio of arrows, one right after the other, that pelted into the dragons side and burst into colorful flares, leaving small scorch marks in their place. It screamed, rounding on her and letting out a blast of fiery energy that sent the elf flying away. She was thrown to the edge of the clearing, where the deep crater had been left after the section Autumn was on had been lifted in the sky. Her body hit the ground, rolled, and was sent sliding over the rim. Her hands scrabbled for purchase, managing to cling to a rock just before she fell into the abyss below. Blackwall was already racing over, feet sliding in the dust in his haste to reach her. He dove for her and managed to pull her to safety before the dragon was on them again, a massive sweep of its tail sending them both flying in the other direction. They smashed into a heap of rocks, bodies hitting heavily against the stone hard enough for him to hear the impact, making Dorian wince, and after that he saw no more of them as the dragon turned its attention to the rest of them.

Dorian cried out, sending his fire spell flying, and prayed they would get out of this alive.

***

Autumn managed to gather herself and climb to her feet in time to see Cullen working his way around to the back of Corypheus. Solas was still holding his own against the ruthless onslaught of spells, furious magical energy boiling the air around them. She held her breath as Cullen drew near enough to strike, lifting his blade for a hit she was praying would land and deal some damage. Corypheus, however, had other ideas.

Casting a barrier that pushed outward and staggered Solas back several feet, Corypheus spun around, shooting his clawed hand out towards Cullen. He brought up his shield just in time, and she watched his eyes widen when the long talons shot straight through the thick metal, barely missing sinking into his skin on the other side. Corypheus yanked his arm back savagely, wrenching the shield out of Cullen's hand. He groaned in pain, wrist twisting awkwardly before he freed it from the strap. Then in one swift movement Corypheus spun around, flinging the metal off of his hand directly at her. She had absolutely no forewarning, and no way to dodge.

She tried to spin out of the way anyways, but the edge of the ruined metal caught her in the side, sinking into her flesh and sending her toppling back to the ground. The shield was knocked out of the wound as she rolled several times, crashing against a boulder before she was finally able to still. She coughed miserably, grabbing at her side as the pain wracked through her body. She pulled her hand away covered in blood, her armor staining red around the area. Gritting her teeth, she placed her hand back over the wound, probing it to ascertain the damage. It was bleeding profusely, stinging where strips of her flesh had been scraped away by the jagged edges of metal, but it didn't go very deep, so it was superficial. She grabbed the ties of the leather wrapped around her waist and adjusted them, tightening the fabric around the injury before standing up and searching for her daggers. They lay on the ground a few feet away, gleaming in the light of the breach, tantalizingly close. Corypheus was already advancing on her, however, and she wouldn't have time to rush over and grab them.

With a vicious cry that was terrifying to hear, Solas spun his staff, casting a spell that shot up into the sky above Corypheus' head. Great boiling black smoke appeared like an oily spill of ink spreading through the air, and she could see fire swirling within its depths. Corypheus faltered, glancing up before a wicked grin spread across his face. As fireballs started to pour out of the makeshift storm he lifted his hands, swinging them in a beckoning motion. Autumn felt herself tugged bodily forward, thrown into the space just below the cloud before Corypheus waved his hand once more and disappeared, flitting away from the danger.

Fire exploded next to her and she fell to the ground, covering her head with her arms in an effort to keep the searing heat off her skin. She could feel the leather of her armor cooking, the metal pieces adorning it heating up to the point of burning even through the layers of clothes. She screamed as another blast of fire erupted next to her, then she was surprised when the rush of hot air from that direction abruptly stopped. Cullen knelt over her, wrapping his arms around her protectively as he grit his teeth against the blaze, sweat pouring down his face and curling his hair.

Fire exploded around them again, great orbs of inferno raining down on them, and Autumn wailed tremulously as she realized they were about to be burned alive.

***

Varric fired Bianca, aiming for the dragon's head, but it swiveled out of the way at the last second, the bolt bouncing harmlessly off the side of its neck. He cursed, loading another round and hoping that he would get another shot at its eyes. The bolt slipped through his fingers, shaking as the air around him vibrated with the dragon's roar. He glanced up from his task and swore violently when the only thing he could see was the great, gaping maw of the beast before him, endless rows of yellow fangs dripping with foul smelling saliva. He had half a second to stare before a giant ball of sharp fire engulfed him, red light overtaking his vision and forcing him to shut his eyes. He turned to the side, trying to run, but he was far too slow and far too close to avoid the hit. He screamed as his right arm took the full force of the impact, shards of red lyrium digging into his flesh as the fire ate away at his jacket. He stumbled to the ground and cradled his arm to his chest, dizzy from the shock of the blow. The dragon reared back its head again, drawing in another great gust of air, and Varric knew that this was going to be the end for him, because there was no fucking way he could dodge this.

He closed his eyes and covered his head all the same, bracing himself for the pain that was about to consume him. The air around him exploded, but after a heartbeat he managed to comprehend that he wasn't on fire. He glanced up and realized that Cassandra had leaped in front of the blast, and was curved around him protectively while her shield took the full force of the hit. She grinned down at him and Varric knew he had never seen anything more beautifully terrifying than Cassandra Pentaghast in battle.

“You're getting slow, Varric.” She said, sliding back as the dragon continued to pelt her shield with fire, her feet grinding against the grit beneath them as she tried to lock herself into place.

“Only so you could have a chance to save me.” he told her. She grinned wider at that before her face contorted into a grimace, hissing in pain. The metal of her shield was superheated, molten red and glowing, and the dragon showed no signs of ceasing its barrage. A drop of liquefied silverite had dripped from the weapon and landed on her thigh, sizzling through the armor there and branding the toned flesh beneath.

“ _Fuck_.” She grunted, and Varric was so startled to hear her curse that he almost laughed. Clenching his jaw, he instead wrapped an arm around her back, helping to brace her as she held up the shield, hoping his support could somehow magically keep them from being incinerated when their metal barrier finally melted away.

They were saved by a blissfully cold wave of ice smashing into the shield, cooling the warped metal almost instantly as more ice was thrown at the dragon's head. Dorian let out a triumphant crow as the dragon finally turned away from Varric and Cassandra, giving them time to recover from the aggression. Varric watched as Dorian flung another spell, ice encasing itself around Bull's great axe before the giant Qunari threw himself into the air and onto the dragon's back.

“FUCK.” Varric and Cassandra said in unison as the dragon bucked at the man now clinging to its body.

***

Bull felt the muscles of the dragon sliding beneath his legs as he straddled its back, battle lust flowing through his veins like floodwater through a broken dam. He bellowed as it bucked, trying to throw him, sharp points of dragon hide digging into his thighs as he held on. He gripped a scaly ridge with one hand and used the other to bring his axe up in a swing, but before he could bring it down the dragon heaved itself into the air, bugling defiance before it came crashing down again. Bull lost his grip on his weapon entirely, the axe tearing out of his fingers to sail uselessly away. He nearly lost his balance, his legs losing contact with the hide beneath them for a moment before he came slamming back down, the force of the impact driving the breath out of his lungs. He grunted in pain as he redirected both his hands to finding stronger purchase.

He heard Dorian screaming at him from below, but he couldn't see anything, the world was spinning much too fast for him to discern anything beyond the rancid scales in front of him. His stomach lurched as the dragon bucked again, twisting to and fro as it raged in protest. Fire licked its way across the hide around him, the familiar tingle of Dorian's magic flaring in the air, but the dragon seemed to ignore it in favor of trying to knock the Qunari off of its back. Bull dug his heels in, shut his eyes, and tried very hard to use the sheer force of his will to remain where he was.

At least this way the dragon's attention would be kept from the rest of the party battling below. That's what Bull was going to tell himself, anyhow.

 


	98. Cassandra Laughed and Screeched Right Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a dragon is no match for the Inquisition strike team.

Cullen cried out in her ear as the air continued to explode around them. She was drenched in sweat from the heat, although the moisture did little to relieve the stifling inferno surrounding them. She whimpered as she pressed closer to him, her cheek getting burned against the plate of his armor, the metal searing as though just pulled from the forge. Errant flames licked at her leg, catching on the dry fabric of her pants and she convulsed, slapping at the offending spot to try and squash the fire. Cullen's joined hers, his larger gloved palms more effective at the task. She caught his eyes, the amber she usually considered so warm seeming pleasantly cool in comparison to the scorching prison they found themselves in now. She tried to tell him that she loved him, but another blast rocked close by and the air around them was swallowed by the flames, and all she could do was whimper again.

Then, abruptly, the heat was driven away as they were enveloped in a shimmering barrier, tiny droplets of water dancing below the surface and misting down on their blistered bodies, like a tiny spring storm kissing a gentle morning. They both sighed with relief, taking heaving lungfuls of deliciously cooled air to clear their chests, throats feverish from the sweltering atmosphere they'd been subjected to moments before. Fire pelted against the top of the shield as Solas' original spell continued, and Autumn watched in awe for a moment as the piping flames cascaded above her head from behind a wall of blue tinted glass. As the smoky clouds above them abated, Cullen kissed the top of her head, a quick conveyance of love and relief before they both turned their attention back to the fight at hand.

Solas was a few yards away from them, staff pointed towards them as he maintained the barrier, and his eyes shifted about anxiously, unable to locate any sign of their enemy. For a brief moment Corypheus was out of sight, staying hidden and biding his time until he could make his move. Autumn wanted to cry out when she saw his towering form materialize next to Solas, but her words would have been far too late considering the swiftness that Corypheus knocked the mage aside, flinging him like a child's toy across the clearing. He hit the ground with such force that he bounced, lifting in the air before crashing back into the stone. He rolled and slid all the way to the edge, and Autumn let out a strangled cry as she saw him go over. Somehow, at the last second, his fingers found purchase, digging in the ground and halting his delirious descent. She met his eyes as his head hovered just above the ledge, and the terror she saw there made her heart sink.

“Save Solas!” She ordered Cullen, climbing to her feet and turning to race towards her daggers. She didn't bother checking to see if he listened, trusting that he would do as she asked as she swiped her weapons back off the ground and spun to face Corypheus.

“Your efforts are meaningless, child.” Corypheus chuckled darkly, thrusting the hand that held the orb into the air. It sizzled, green energy flying off its surface, and boiling masses of magic and fire started raining down from the breach. They hit the ground and exploded into glittering sparks around her, filling the air with the angry hiss of magical energy. She jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding one as it scorched the stones where she had just stood. “You haven't the strength to face me, you insolent little fool. You should have died quietly when I gave you the chance at Haven.” Corypheus was steadily advancing on her.

“Fuck you.” she snarled and jumped forward. She managed to catch him off guard enough to get close, slashing her blades in a vicious downward strike and forcing him to use his arm to parry. The metal bounced off the bone from the impact, and he growled in frustration and pain. He swung at her, hand rolling with electric energy, but she danced out of the way until she was behind him. Reaching to her belt she yanked one of her flasks out and smashed it against her chest, not bothering to check which concoction it was. She felt the air around her drop in temperature immediately as ice laced its way across her clothes, glittering fractal flowers that reflected the green light like little jewels. She made to drive her frost coated dagger through his back but he spun, hand grabbing her blade and yanking it up. The ice surprised him, chilling his hand in an instant, and he hissed in surprise, dropping her immediately and sending her stumbling backward. He retaliated with a ferocious backhand across her jaw, the sudden movement catching her completely unaware. She staggered to the side, vision blurring against the slow bruise forming across her face. Dazed, she looked around, trying to ascertain which direction he would be coming from, relieved to note that Cullen had managed to pull Solas up from over the edge across from them, the raining energy from the breach illuminating their exhausted faces as they leaned on each other near the brink. She wasn't given long to appreciate the knowledge, however, as Corypheus was not content to allow her to gather her bearings.

He continued his assault by wrapping his hands around her shoulders, pinning her arms to her side and lifting her into the air. The long claws at his fingertips dug into her back, and she screamed as they inched slowly into her skin.

***

Cassandra knelt down next to Varric, ripping the cloth from the shirt sticking out underneath her armor. She tore it into a quick strip with her teeth and rapidly wound it around his wounded arm. He grit his teeth, but even trapped behind his lips the scream from his throat reverberated through her. She grimaced against the things that it did to her heart, and tried to focus on the battle around them while she worked.

Bull was still struggling on the dragon's back while Dorian was screaming at him unintelligibly in Tevene and casting spells haphazardly, none of which was having much effect on the dragon itself. Sera and Blackwall were still missing in action, and she didn't want to think about that long enough to wonder what it meant. Vivienne was hovering over Morrigan, using her magic to do something while keeping one eye on the giant foe thrashing before them. She couldn't see Cole, but that wasn't particularly unusual for a battle. She rarely saw him until everyone was dead, usually at the end of his daggers.

“ _Go_ Cass, leave me. I'll live, I swear.” Varric grunted, pushing her arms away from him.

She gave him a dubious glance, an argument forming on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back. He was right, she was no use to them here, and protecting Varric would do them little good if the dragon managed to best everyone else. She took a deep breath and nodded. “Try to stay out of the fire this time.” she told him. She didn't look down at him, but his pained chuckle let her know the message was received. She stood and tossed her ruined shield to the side, taking her longsword in both hands as she surged forward.

“Kick its ass, Cass.” he called to her before she was too far away.

She grinned to herself without looking back, and pumped her legs faster, picking up speed as she neared the beast. It was too occupied with Bull on its back to notice her approach, and she sent out a silent thank you to the Maker for the small miracles she was granted. An intense cry of rage tore itself from her lips as she reached the creature and pushed her feet off the ground, lifting her sword above her head. She flew through the air, and as she hit the apex of the jump she brought her blade down, driving it with the full force of her body's momentum. It sank into the flesh at the joint where its wing met its body, steel sliding through scale and tendon like a cleaver through meat. It screamed defiance, thrashing to the side in an effort to turn and face her, but she sidestepped to match its pace, staying just out of its reach. She brought her sword up and then down again, smashing into the same spot and sinking the weapon into the hide even further. She repeated the steps a third and fourth time, and by the fifth her blade sliced all the way through, severing the wing from the body. It fell to the ground and she trampled over it as she continued to dance away.

The dragon screeched in pain and fury and Cassandra laughed and screeched right back.

***

Dorian felt like his vocal cords had torn, but somehow he was still managing to scream at his idiot boyfriend who was currently hanging on for dear life atop a furious archdemon. He let out a new, inventive curse with every spell he cast, trying to drive the beast to madness in an effort to keep it from focusing too much on the small looking man on its back. He knew he wasn't being much use in the fight, but the only thing he could think about was Bull, weaponless, riding a fucking dragon.

He switched to an ice spell, pelting the dragon's broken wing as he watched, more than a little intimidated, as Cassandra hacked off the other. The dragon bugled in anguish as it pivoted, neck snapping back and forth as its body convulsed in pain. It turned, stomping over to face Cassandra, but only got a couple of steps in before it was screeching anew, bucking upwards as what appeared to be a cloud of smoke danced underneath him. It passed along the length of its belly, from the base of its throat to just under its tail before disappearing. Cole materialized seconds later near its hindquarters, and the dragon let out a sickening gurgle before the skin on its underside split, spilling steaming intestines onto the ground. Dorian let out a call of victory and relief, a sound echoed by Varric from wherever he was lurking, but it turned into a strangled sound of horror when the dragon seemed completely oblivious to the injury, and continued thrashing. It reared up, straightening lightning fast and arching its back second later, and the motion finally proved too much for Bull, who was sent sailing off its back and across the clearing. Dorian watched in silent dismay as his love toppled over the edge of the crater and vanished from sight.

He fell to his knees, staring at the spot where Bull had disappeared, and felt rage course through his veins, sour fury rising in the back of his throat. He spun his staff, drawing from the fade, but before he could gather the mana to cast he was startled by a hail of ice sailing past his head. He ducked instinctively, the spell dissolving from him as the frozen arrows burred themselves in the dragon's eye. He glanced back to the direction the volley had come from and saw Sera, bruised and battered and as pissed off as he had ever seen, leaning against Blackwall as a cloud of ice swirled around her armor. The dragon shrieked again, tossing its head from side to side madly as it tried to dislodge the points in its eye. It lurched forward aimlessly, shaking the ground as its weight shifted awkwardly on its feet, sliding in the gore of its own viscera. The smell of rotten flesh and rancid blood filled his nose, and Dorian doubled over and retched helplessly. His body was shaking from anger, fatigue, loss, and now his stomach was emptying itself of its contents all over the stone beneath his feet. He wasn't sure he could go on much longer.

The rapid surge of power in the air almost knocked the wind out of him, and he managed to look up around his heaving to locate the source. Morrigan was standing upright once more, bruised and likely broken, but with a fierce determination on her face. She was back to back with Vivienne, and they were both casting, playing off each other’s spells to weave something extraordinarily powerful together. He felt the temperature in the air drop and the sky seemed to dim, or perhaps it was that the two women were glowing brightly as the mana surged around them, that made the light of the breach seem paltry. Soon their magic began to coalesce at a center point above the dragon, dark clouds blotting out the sky above as the air swirled with ice and electricity. He could feel the sharp pricks of the frozen droplets in the air brushing against his face, but they didn't seem to harm him as he was far enough away from the eye of the storm. Cassandra had sensed the danger she was in and was running away as well, sliding past where Varric was and seizing him bodily, dragging him as far away as she could get them. Morrigan and Vivienne had faces contorted with concentration, sweat glistening on their brows as they continued to focus, to bring to bear the massive amounts of energy they were using to cast.

Then, all at once, the swirling mass of clouds exploded, a hyperchilled wave of air surrounding the archdemon as a shock wave of wind buffeted the bystanders. Its scream of torment was cut off abruptly as it was frozen solid, body grinding to a frigid halt as it crystallized before them. A massive bolt of lightning roared out of the sky, flashing so brightly that Dorian had to close his eyes and turn his head away, feeling the vivid glow even beneath his closed lids. The bolt struck home, dead in the center of the glacial dragon statue. The electricity tore through its body with such force that it shattered, exploding into a thousand pieces so tiny that they thawed in midair, sending a gentle mist across the entire field like an eerie fog on a crisp fall morning. A red pulse of magic was all that was left of Corypheus' archdemon, and that too vanished after a moment, flying up towards the island floating above them in the sky.

Dorian raced across the clearing, ignoring the gore collecting on the hem of his robe, ignoring the slime that covered his hands when he slipped and reached out to catch himself. He ignored everything as he raced to the edge of the crater where he had seen Bull fall, not even daring to pray for his safety because to think that much would be to think about what might have happened to the only man that had ever loved him. Dust scattered around his feet as he ground to a halt, leaning over the edge to peer down into the blackness below.

He had to blink his eyes around the tears pouring out of them, unsure if he was really seeing what he was seeing, unsure that it wasn't all wishful thinking. He couldn't help but smile at the sight before him, however, as Bull gave a timid wave from a small ledge just below. One of his arms hung awkwardly against his chest, and he was covered in scrapes and cuts, but his smile was unwavering as the pair locked eyes.

“You're alive!” Dorian cried, his voice breaking around the joy in his throat.

“And in one piece!” Bull grinned cheekily. Dorian puffed out a laugh, shaking his head.

“Come on, let's get you out of there before you find something else stupid to do.”

With everyone's help they gathered together, checking for the worst of the injuries and tending to them. Once they had all been accounted for they grew silent, watching as a group as the island in the sky jutted through the swirling magic of the battle above.

_Maker keep them safe_ , Dorian prayed, and with any luck the god was listening.

 


	99. Her Image to Make it Anew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I might have cried while writing this.

She writhed in his grasp as he lofted her above his head, sneering up at her with naked derision and spite.

“Look at you! Look at your god's chosen! Flailing at your fate, as though anything you did ever mattered!” his eyes were wild as a hysterical laugh bubbled out of his chest.

She stilled, feeling his claws digging deeper into her back and willing herself to ignore it, forcing herself to relax as she narrowed her eyes and gazed down at him. His smile grew broader, exultant, arrogant in his assumption of dominance.

“The only one who never mattered was you.” she said, proud of the brazen clarity in her even tone. Throwing all her weight into it, she flung her legs forward, catching him underneath his chin in a clean, solid kick. He flew backwards, hurtling her into the air as he did. She sailed over him, smashing into the ground and wrenching her knee awkwardly on the landing. Somehow, through sheer force of will or a monumentally miraculous stroke of luck, she managed to hang onto her daggers in the tumble, although she paid dearly for the effort with a gash across her thigh from the spin of the uncontrolled weapons. She ignored it, ignored the blood trickling down her skin from the cut beneath her ribs, ignored the way the gash on her thigh felt like a small trail of fire. She got to her feet and immediately lost her footing as her knee gave a sharp protest, crumbling beneath the sudden weight as she stood. Corypheus had righted himself and was already bearing down on her, and she was forced to throw herself onto the ground roughly and roll away from a savage kick aimed at her head. She groaned as her body came to a stop, her arms shaking as she tried to lift herself up once more. She didn't have enough time, was never going to get up before he would be on her, another attack that she wouldn't be able to dodge.

She was braced for the blow when a bloodcurdling cry tore from their left and Solas flung himself onto Corypheus. He slammed into his middle, sending them both careening onto the ground, grappling with one another roughly before Solas finally won out, sitting on top of the magister and using his weight to press the breath out of his chest. Solas didn't have his staff, had lost it over the edge of the platform in his harrowing encounter with the empty air earlier, but that didn't seem to hinder his abilities in the least. With another snarl, like an animal preparing to savage a rival predator to protect his kin, Solas drew back his fists and summoned gauntlets of living lightning. He brought his fists down, raining punches into Corypheus' head, stunning him as he flailed uselessly beneath the elven mage. As Autumn stood, she felt herself swell with hope that Solas might actually incapacitate him.

Corypheus let out a howl of rage and seemed to inflate for a moment with power before he turned a massive surge of electricity into his own body. The cavorting light covered the pair, enveloping them in brilliant energy before Corypheus managed to fling his body to the side, tossing Solas off as he convulsed under the strain of the spell. Corypheus stood, heaving with the effort to avoid the effects that the self inflicted surge had on him, but he strode forward nonetheless, raising his hand and pulling forth another swirl of dark red energy that crackled in his palm. Solas was helpless before him as he contorted in pain, unable to control his rioting muscles long enough to even try to dodge.

Autumn wasted no more time and drew back her arm, throwing her weight behind it before she flung her dagger at the magister's back. It sailed through the air and embedded itself into his shoulder, the gleaming metal sinking in several inches before grinding to a halt. Corypheus screamed and rounded on her, the spell dying in his hand after the painful interruption. He lunged at her, but she danced out of the way and ran as fast as her injured leg allowed, disappearing behind the shattered temple walls around them. She pressed herself into the stone and held her breath while he howled in rage at her disappearance.

***

Cullen watched Autumn dart away to safety before Corypheus let out a shriek of rage that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. He ignored the unpleasant sensation and raced forward, seeing his opening and hoping he would be fast enough to use it. He lifted his sword, carrying it with both hands as he rushed forth, footsteps heavy but fast. He let out a grunt of satisfaction when the blade drove home, pushing it with his palms to send it shooting up through Corypheus' back until it burst out of his stomach. The magister lurched forward, a surprised gurgle slipping out of his lungs. Cullen twisted the blade, snarling with the effort as it ground against bones and corrupted lyrium laced organs.

Corypheus startled to chuckle, which should have been warning enough for Cullen to let go of his blade and run, but the shock of the unexpected reaction rooted him to the spot. He watched, frozen in horror, as Corypheus grabbed the blade protruding from his stomach and yanked it forward savagely, tugging Cullen off balance. He lost his grip on the hilt as he slammed into the dirt, his cheek scraping painfully through rock and glassy shards of lyrium. Corypheus reached behind him and grabbed the weapon, unsheathing it from his flesh as though he felt nothing of the injury, using his other hand to remove the dagger and toss it aside. He glared down at Cullen with a sinister smile before kicking him upside the head, sending him tumbling backwards onto the ground. His vision went black from the force of the blow, and Cullen knew there was no way he would get up in time to avoid the next attack. He tried to roll over onto his stomach, hoping to be able to use his arms to crawl away while his head spun mercilessly, but his limbs wouldn't respond to his orders in this dazed state. He blinked rapidly, shapes gradually coming into focus in time to see Corypheus looming over him, his own sword poised just above his heart. Corypheus hefted the blade, raising it just enough so that he could force it deep into Cullen's body, but the weapon never had a chance to be brought down before he was struck in the chest by a massive ball of red energy, sending him reeling backwards. Cullen heard Solas scream that the archdemon was dead before a blur of red and leather flew by him, and Autumn had rejoined the fight.

***

Autumn rammed her head into Corypheus' stomach, the momentum of her charge driving them both backwards, lifting his feet off the ground and denying him any possible purchase to right himself. He stumbled over, the orb flying from his grip and rolling several feet away. She landed heavily on top of him and immediately began moving towards the orb, kneeing him savagely in the chest as she went. She made it off of him and scrambled a short way, but before she could get up she felt his hand around her ankle, yanking her back down roughly. She looked back, screaming wordless rage at him, kicking savagely until her foot smashed into his face. He dropped her ankle and she flung herself forward again, this time successfully standing and lurching her way to the orb, ignoring the protests from her battered body as her muscles trembled in the throes of agony. Her hand wrapped around the orb, its spiral etched surface humming with power, and she lifted it, turning just as Corypheus reached her. She hauled back her arm and unleashed the best right hook of her life, wailing into Corypheus' jaw with the orb in hand. She felt his bones shatter from the force of the blow and he dropped to his knees, stunned enough to stagger to the ground in pain.

She switched the orb to her left hand and felt it connect with the mark, like two pieces of a puzzle finally locking in place. It burned across her skin, her whole body shaking with the force of the power flowing through her, but she ignored it all as she lifted her arm and held the orb up to the sky. Energy, raw and untamed, shot out of her, through the orb and up into the center of the breach. She was screaming in pain, but she locked her elbow, using her right hand to brace it as she let the energy overtake her. For a moment that felt like forever, like a slow crawl through an eternity of torment and inferno, she stood there connected to the breach, feeling her flesh dissolve around the mark. Then the breach exploded, magic pouring out across the sky and rocking back through her. The shock wave hit the orb first, shattering it into several pieces before jolting through her arm and snapping the bones wherever it hit. She screamed again, the immense pain coursing through her, her vision hazy through the field of red hot agony she was submerged in.

Corypheus stood, hands clenching into fists as he stared her down. She forced herself to stop screaming, biting down on her tongue and using that pain to distract herself from the ruination that was throbbing in her arm. He was striding towards her purposefully, each step measured and filled with loathing. She picked up her dagger in her left hand, arm throbbing with the pain, broken and bruised and nearly useless, but she needed it to work if she was going to finish this. She stood up straight, waiting, watching, bracing herself for the moment when he would be close enough for her to act.

With a scream she launched herself forward, using her left hand to drive her dagger into his chest, ignoring the way the shattered bones ground together beneath her skin. Using the last bits of sanity and energy she had within her, she poured her essence into the mark, willing the fade to obey her command, willing the energy to bend to her will. A rift ripped open around the wound in his chest, and for a moment he was screaming in defiance as he grabbed the blade sticking through him. Then his screams were dissolving as he evaporated into the magic of the tear. She let go of the hilt and took a step back, snapping her hand down and closing her fingers over the white hot mark. The rift shuttered closed, disappearing from the world and taking Corypheus and her dagger with it.

She turned and remained standing long enough to give Cullen and Solas a weak smile before her vision grew dark and the ground opened its arms to embrace her when she fell.

***

Solas climbed to his feet and took a step towards her, his chest aching with the need to make sure she was still alive, but he was thrown back to the ground again when the platform they were on gave a great shudder, lurching to the side ominously. A fierce wind picked up, and with terror he realized that they were plummeting back to the ground below, the magic holding them aloft no longer working. He tried to lift himself, tried to crawl forward and reach her, but the shaking was too much, and he found himself unable to do much more than cling to the ground as the world spun into chaos around them.

He was thrown into the air when they finally made impact, tossed into rocks as the land turned to rubble around him. Something bluntly struck the back of his head, sending star bursts of painful light dancing behind his eyes and nearly stealing his consciousness from him. Somewhere something crumbled and toppled to the ground, and the stones seemed to rumble with the force of the crash. For several long moments Solas was endlessly tumbled in a world of shifting stone and disaster, unable to ascertain what was happening beyond the collapsing battleground immediately around him.

It felt like a thousand years before the world was still again, and in that time Solas could barely breathe around the rising panic within him. When he opened his eyes and nothing spun, he shakily got to his feet, pulling himself from under the debris layered over him. He looked around, seeing nothing but the dust and echoes of chaos, nothing recognizable after the force of gravity had unleashed its fury over the errant ground. He stepped free of the rubble, searching the thick clouds of grit for any sign of her, any movement that would give him hope that she may yet live.

“Autumn!” Cullen's voice rang out across the area, and Solas saw him rushing around, doing much the same thing he was. Other voices picked up the call as their companions joined them, searching for her and begging her name to the wind in the hopes that she would respond. Solas moved from them, checking piles of debris, every rock he moved another crack in his soul that threatened to break him into pieces of nothing that would fade away slowly, intangible points of despair in her absence.

He found her lying beneath two walls that had fallen into each other above her body, blocking her petite frame from being crushed by the near endless mounds of stone and red lyrium around her. He sank to his knees next to her, holding his breath as he gazed on her face, unmoving as it rested against the ground, beautiful despite the purple bruise mottling her cheek and the immeasurable filth smeared across her skin from the battle. With trembling hands he placed his palms on her cheeks, cradling her face as a sob worked its way out of his chest. She was not breathing, her chest locked in a stillness that sent waves of grief roaring through him, breaking against him like the endless tides of the sea against the brave stones of the shore, stones that could not help but wear away under the force brought to bear against them. The stillness of her heart proved that he had failed, that in the end his mistakes had cost him too much, cost the world too much, and that without her light he would never again be able to see through the darkness, without her he would drown in the haze of his loss.

“Ma lath, ir abelas.” his voice broke over the apology, tears welling up from the depths of his heart to linger at the corners of his eyes. He gently brushed her curls away from her face, aching over how soft they felt even now, while she was so broken and still. He had no magic left to cast, no spell to mend his shattered dreams. He was empty, a void that would expand until the universe had faded, and all that was left were the remnants of a love that he had lost.

Then her eyes flew open and she took a great, gasping breath, her chest heaving with the effort to breathe again, stealing her life back from the jaws of eternity. He let out a cry of triumph as her gaze met his, a smile spreading across her face before she coughed weakly. He kissed her forehead, overjoyed at the precious gift in his hands, his heart soaring with relief to see her alive. Footsteps echoed around him as the others arrived and Solas let go of her, reluctantly breaking the contact that he so desperately wanted, so desperately needed to reassure himself that all had not been lost.

He stumbled back, moving out of the way as Cullen rushed to her side, his hands on her cheeks in an echo of how Solas had held her moments ago. She smiled, a simple upturn of her small lips that slowly raised the bones in her cheeks, eyes crinkling around the edges as tears hovered in their corners. She smiled and it was beautiful, more beautiful than the lost spires of Arlathan, more beautiful than words could possibly describe, more beautiful than anything Solas could have ever imagined, not even in his wildest dreams. She was radiant in her joy, those eyes the color of the endless wilderness looking at Cullen as though he held the entire world, as though he were the sun that gave her life and bade her flourish. Solas felt the tears well in his eyes as he stared at their happiness, spilling down his cheeks to track bittersweet trails through the soot on his face. He could feel the magnificent, overwhelming elation that they had, because somehow they had made it out of everything alive, and the perfection of their moment was _blinding_.

His heart shattered, a thousand tiny pieces falling in his chest, ice and glass and pain mingling with the wondrous knowledge that she was so loved, that she loved so, that she was happy. More than anything he hoped that the feeling sweeping through her never ended, that her bliss would last a lifetime, beyond a lifetime. That no matter how many ages would pass she would always have that brilliant, perfect, gleaming joy shining on her face for all eternity. She deserved the world, and the only thing that hurt, the thing that made everything in him tremble with the magnitude of his sacrifice, was that he could never be the one to give it to her.

He watched the love of his life kiss Cullen before he turned his back, turned away from her happiness and resigned himself to his fate. He turned away and walked onward, feet carrying him past the ruins of his foci, towards his own purposes once more, towards the long road that he had walked in solitude since before she had come into his life. He had lingered long enough in her world, lingered long enough that she would haunt him for the rest of his days, her ghost a fond memory that he would always hold dear. He could not afford to bask in her life any longer, for Solas still had a reason that he must press on. She would always be with him in spirit, connected to him by magic and by love in a way that he could never untangle himself from, nor did he ever want to. She had changed him, changed everything, and given him a hope for the future that he had never had before. She had shown him that wonders still existed in the world, that love was something worth having, even if it sometimes felt like it would destroy him, even if it felt like it ripped him asunder and scattered the pieces into the endless edges of the fade. He would never regret the way he felt for her, the way she made his heart stop just by laying with him beneath the stars. But he could no more remain here than he had been able to remain with her then, tucking her hair behind her ears after he had carried her to her bed. The dawn had come then, intruding on the night where the fireflies had danced promises across the sky, and Solas had allowed himself to pretend that he held a place in her heart. The dawn of their time together had arrived, as well, and Solas knew that if he loved her, really loved her as he knew he did, he could not remain with her any longer.

Solas left as their friends crowded around her, celebrating their victory with a joy that he shared, even if he could not join them. He didn't look back as he slipped away, lest he lose his resolve, lest he lose himself in her pull and forget who he was. He couldn't afford to allow it to happen, and so with tears on his cheeks he walked on.

He would leave his heart behind for her, in the hopes that perhaps she would remember him fondly, for memories were all that they could ever have, and he knew he would cherish his above all else in this world. The Dread Wolf had fallen in love with a human woman, and his one and only regret over that truth was that she could never love him in return.

When the world ended, he would remember her image to make it anew.

 


	100. Never Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a final letters chapter, as we're winding down.

_Autumn,_

_My scouts are on the lookout, but I suspect if he does not want to be found we will not be able to find him. I'm sorry. If I get any news I promise to report to you directly with it, but until then try not to take it too personally. Solas must have had his reasons for leaving, and I'm sure he would have said goodbye if he could have._

_\- Leliana_

 

_Leliana,_

_Thanks for trying. I don't know what reasons he could have, but I'm not going to give up looking. I just can't accept that he would disappear, not after all we'd been through._

_Anyways, I know I'll get to tell you this in person at your party later, but I wanted to write it down anyways because I think it bears repeating several times: Congratulations on your appointment as the next divine! I don't know anyone as devout and kindhearted as you are, and I think you're going to do an excellent job of making the Chantry into something people can find comfort in again. My only regret is I'll lose you as my spymaster, but I think your replacement should have things well in hand._

_Now go, stop working and relax for awhile, you're supposed to be taking the time until the grand banquet off, like everyone else!_

_-Autumn_

 

_Autumn,_

_Thank you. It has been an honor to serve with you, Autumn Trevelyan. I hope you know I've come to consider you a dear friend, and I will miss you terribly when I leave for Val Royeaux._

_Although I must say I look forward to being able to officiate your wedding. Congratulations, by the way._

_-Leliana_

 

_Leliana,_

_Oh, you awful woman, how did you even find out? You had better not tell a soul, we are saving that announcement as a surprise!_

_-Autumn_

 

_Autumn,_

_You’re lucky I found the receipt for the ring Cullen bought you before Josephine did. Tell him I think the dragonbone band with the peridot and sapphire accents was a very tasteful choice. Rest assured, however, your little secret is safe with me._

_Besides, Dorian might kill me if he found out someone else knew before he did, and while I'm sure I could take him if it came down to it, I'm rather fond of him after all this time._

_-Leliana_

 

_Leliana,_

_Never change._

_-Autumn_

_**_

_Viv,_

_Thank you for accepting my offer. You're the only woman I know who could possibly hope to fill Leliana's shoes, and I know you'll do a fantastic job. Please accept this gift, as a token of my appreciation. I know you wanted to go back to Val Royeaux, so I'm sorry if my offer ruined all your grand plans. I wanted to get you this to perhaps make it sting just a little less._

_-Autumn_

(this letter is attached to a package containing a pair of very expensive, gold encrusted boots lined with red lion fur)

 

_Autumn,_

_My dear, being the Chief Intelligence Officer for the Inquisition is by far and away better than an enchanter of the court. Skyhold may not have all of the amenities one might find in Val Royeaux, but the status of the position more than makes up for it. Besides, the capital happens to be lacking in company as of late. I would find it quite the bore if I were to leave while you remained behind._

_Also you'd be lost without me. Whoever would keep Sera in check if I left?_

_Love,_

_Madame Vivienne_

 

_Viv,_

_You make an excellent point. That's why I've appointed her as your second in command._

_(Please don't hex me, she was talking about leaving for the red jennies again and I just kind of told her you would need her help and things got out of control very fast.)_

_-Autumn_

 

_Autumn,_

_Never fear, my dear. I'm sure I can find ways to put her “friends” to use somehow._

_-Vivienne_

_**_

_Boss,_

_Why is Sera marching around the tavern in that ridiculous outfit? She keeps hiding under tables and leaping out at people, rambling on about spying on them. Where did she even get a copy of Leliana's cloak?_

_-Bull_

 

_Bull,_

_Don't ask. It's probably better for your sanity if you don't know._

_-Autumn_

 

_Boss,_

_Nevermind, she explained it. We're all doomed._

_-Bull_

_**_

_Cass,_

_Thanks for pulling my ass out of the fire. Literally. As a token of my appreciation, I have taken the liberty of re-writing and expanding on that little piece you wrote. I hope you don't mind that I re-wrote it, but I wanted to give your ideas the proper flare they deserved. So here you go, your own personal companion piece from the Swords and Shields universe._

_-Varric_

_****** _

_Autumn,_

_I'm fairly certain I'm hallucinating. I think you need to come down here and pinch me or something because I simply must be walking around asleep and dreaming up absolutely preposterous notions._

_-Dorian_

 

_Dorian,_

_You're going to have to explain better than that or there's no way I'm getting out of bed._

_-Autumn_

 

_Autumn,_

_I just saw Cassandra hug Varric. HUG him. Lifted him off the ground and spun him around and everything. And she was SMILING while she did it. Surely these are all signs of an impending apocalypse, yes?_

_-Dorian_

 

_Dorian,_

_Unfortunately Cullen has decreed that this is not a sufficient enough reason to get out of bed. The matter is out of my hands. You will have to stop the apocalypse on your own this time._

_Don't tease them without me though!_

_-Autumn_

 

_Autumn (and apparently Cullen),_

_You are absolutely no fun anymore and I hate you._

_Love,_

_Dorian_

_**_

_Dorian,_

_The Chargers are not your personal errand team._

_-Bull_

 

_Bull,_

_Well I certainly wasn't going to move your things myself, and I've already told you I'm not living above a tavern._

_-Dorian_

 

_Dorian,_

_I would have gotten around to it, you didn't need to have them clear out my entire room. I can't even find anything anymore._

_-Bull_

 

_Bull,_

_Love, I warned you if you woke me up getting out of bed to creep back to your room to get something again I was going to do something about it._

_We live together now. Get over it._

_-Dorian_

 

_Dorian,_

_We were ALREADY living together, you idiot._

_Nevermind, I don't know why I bother trying to argue with you._

_See you at dinner tonight._

_-Bull_

 

_Bull,_

_Don't forget you promised Cole you would help him figure out how to eat. Poor thing wants to show Autumn how human he's become so badly._

_If he shows up drunk to dinner I'll murder you, in case you were wondering._

_-Dorian_

 

_Dorian,_

_Yes DEAR._

_-Bull_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE NOTE: I left my original comment on this chapter, because I couldn't bear to delete it. This was a crazy journey the first time around, and it was so much fun to go back and do edits. I am still astonished by how many of you read and left comments and gave kudos. You guys are the fucking best, always and forever. 
> 
> We made it! We finally reached the end of this long and crazy ride! I can't believe I wrote so much, but I've had so much fun sharing this story with you all. 
> 
> Your comments and Kudos and everything have meant the whole world to me! I have been so honored by all of the appreciation and support I've received, and I thank every single one of you for reading my work. <3 
> 
> And don't worry, this is not the last you'll hear from Autumn and her crazy friends. I'm going to be finishing up First Steps Towards Fate and Thorns of the Lilly, probably hurriedly, but after that there will be a sequel to this fic, and it will pick up ALMOST exactly where we left off. 
> 
> Fate isn't done with these red headed rogues just yet! I can't wait to take you another adventure with them, so keep an eye out and I'll see you guys then. :)


	101. You Could be Happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we have reached the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why, hello there!
> 
> I am assuming many of you who are still subscribed might be confused, as this story was supposed to be done a year ago. ALLOW ME TO EXPLAIN, MY LOVES. 
> 
> I have rewritten this story, from top to bottom. There are new parts, more polished parts, and hopefully less adverbs. Much of the new stuff was added near the beginning, but there's a bit drizzled throughout. You'll find new characters, earlier introductions of other characters, and additional scenes from our favorite characters. I hope that you guys take a look, and I hope you enjoy it if you want to read it a second time through. 
> 
> Now that I've finished this, I'm going to be working through my grand fanfiction series, from the beginning of the timeline to the end. I will be starting with The Traveler, my story about Solas and his time in the fade before he woke up. I have several others I'm working on, and then I will be finishing up with the stories based on the tabletop campaign I run. If you wanted backstory on any of my characters, or wanted to hop into the sequel to this one (Facing Down the Void), you should check them out! They are all apart of the "What is it with Redheaded Rogues, Anyways?", so if you follow the link for that you'll find all of my stuff.
> 
> Reworking this story reminded me just how much fun writing can be, and just how much I loved writing it for you guys the first time. I hope that I returned even a small, infinitesimal amount of that joy back to you with all my very many words. 
> 
> I LOVE YOU ALL FOREVER. 
> 
> Special thanks go to Kmandergirl, who is always happy to talk about random headcanons with me, Whenwewereoceans, my lovely unicorn wife, Mosthopelessofromantics, who kept me sane the first time through writing this, Marydragon, who inspired me to get my ass writing in the first place, and Grimmcake, who gave me fantastic fanart that I will love forever. I'm sure there are others that I'm forgetting, and I am thankful for you as well.
> 
> Really, truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you to everybody for being so supportive and wonderful as I practiced and got better. You made me feel like pursuing my passion wasn't impossible, and no matter what happens in the future, I will always be grateful for that.

_Through fade and fury she came to us,_

_to fight for the fate of us all._

_Through fire and ice she returned to us,_

_the dawn that would make darkness fall._

 

_Her steps lead us into the morning,_

_where shadows were led from out path,_

_her heart was the beacon adorning,_

_the skies in their torn aftermath._

 

_Herald, our dawn, she would save us,_

_keep us from darkness and pain,_

_Herald, our dawn, she would save us,_

_the world would be set right again._

(excerpt from a song written in honor of the Inquisitor Autumn Trevelyan after her victory over the darkspawn magister known as Corypheus)

 

The room was positively buzzing, a plethora of pleasant conversations charging the air around her, happy laughter punctuating the steady hum every few minutes as the Inquisition celebrated its victory.

It had been two weeks since they had finally defeated Corypheus. She still found it hard to believe, finding it strange that, for the moment at least, there was no doom looming on the horizon before her. There were still things the Inquisition had to do, a line of nobles stretching halfway to Ferelden wanting to meet her, to ask her for favors, to ask her to fix their paltry problems for them. The Inquisition's role in the happenings of Thedas was certainly not over, not by a long shot, but there was a certain surreal quality to things now. Like she was walking through some kind of strange dream, the edges of reality blurred just slightly so that she felt it might all disappear if she blinked too quickly. If she closed her eyes it was almost easy to believe none of the things that had happened since that battle over Haven had even come to pass. The lingering marks from her wounds of that battle were reminder enough, however, and Solas' conspicuous absence served as further proof, however bitter it made her. She squashed down the twinge of pain that thoughts of Solas always brought. She didn't want to dwell on her umbrage over his departure, not tonight. There would be time to be upset, time to mull over her feelings, time even to yell at him about it when she finally found him. Tonight, however, was not that time. Tonight was for celebration, and the love and happiness of the friends that still remained would be enough to dull how much she missed the absent one.

She smiled at Cullen as he reached under the table, twining his fingers through her own in a gesture of affection. He was flushed with laughter and drink, eyes crinkled at the corners as he chuckled at whatever story Varric was telling. He looked younger, boyish almost as he glowed in the flickering warmth of the room. He noticed her regard, turning his honey eyes towards her, the love in them so obvious it set her heart fluttering. He leaned over, kissing her cheek lightly.

“Should we tell them?” he murmured in her ear, smirk tilting his mouth up and making the scar above it twitch charmingly.

She felt her mouth move in a smile of its own accord, and found that she was helpless to try and keep it from spreading across her face. “I think now is a good time, yes.”

They stood up in unison, looking out over the table of people that had grown quiet at their movement, all eyes on the pair of grinning fools in front of them. Cullen looked at her again, his smile so broad and unashamed that she felt it lift her off the ground, carrying her into the sky where she would explode into a million little pieces of joy and love, for surely no one could be as blessed as she was and still remain grounded.

He cleared his throat, breaking her gaze to turn a roguish smile to the rest of them. “We have an announcement to make.” he said, his voice carrying through the hall. Dorian let out a little squeal, clapping his hand over his mouth as his eyes grew wide. She rolled her eyes at him as he quivered in anticipation, already having an idea of what Cullen was about to say. “It is my great pleasure, my joy, and my incredible honor to be able to announce my engagement to the absolutely amazing Lady Autumn Trevelyan.”

Somewhere Josephine screamed gleefully, but the sound was quickly lost in the roar of the people crowded into the hall. Soldiers, workers, servants, every living member of the Inquisition was there, on their feet and cheering, whistling and clapping their hands at the announcement. Autumn yelped in protest as she was lifted into the air, Bull tossing her onto his shoulders to parade her around the room. She lost her breath as she began to laugh helplessly, her stomach hurting under the onslaught of endless joy and mirth flowing through her. She looked down at Cullen, watching their friends carry her around the hall while he received pats on the back from the men under his command. He met her eyes, and time seemed to freeze. For a moment there was no one else in the room but them, looking at each other as though the world began and ended with them. Everything just then, in this moment, was perfect. For this one second, spinning in time like a golden ray of sun breaking through the clouds, bathing her in euphoria, in comfort, in safety that she had earned through blood and tears…in this moment, Autumn could believe it was the beginning of her happily ever after.

***

_You could be happy. It is my wish that you are. You made me happier than I had been, by far._

***

She stepped out of the doorway and found herself at the top of a flight of stairs, white marble steps leading down into a beautiful moonlit clearing surrounded by elegant trees, delicate green leaves and twining vines casting soft shadows onto the verdant grass below them. She took a step down, the movement eliciting a familiar whisper of satin against her skin, startling her for a moment. She glanced down to see that she was wearing the ballgown from Halamshiral, the silver threads picking up the brilliant moonlight like the surface of a lake, little pinpricks of glory dancing together against the deep blue She picked up her skirts, descending slowly and frowning at her surroundings. She strode into the middle of the clearing, the grass velvet soft beneath her bare feet, and spun around in an unsteady circle, eyes checking between the gaps in the trees, looking for something that did not seem to be there.

She had never been here before, she thought, but it was hauntingly familiar. Something about it tugged at the edges of her memories, like a far off song she couldn't quite catch, some melody that whispered words she knew but couldn't recall when she tried, like trying to sing along with the wind. She sat on the ground, gently tucking her skirts beneath her before she laid down flat, staring up at the clear sky and trying to remember. The world seemed to expand above her, stretching out into an endless blackness, dotted with glimmering shards of hope that she couldn't reach. It seemed important, whatever this place was, like it held some meaning that should have been profound to her, like it was a part of her in the same way her heart or her smile was a part of her.

It was missing something. She didn't know what it was that she felt she was supposed to find, in this place that she remembered but had never been. Whatever it was left a hole, an vast empty space that she felt sharply, a wound that bled emptiness until she feared it would consume her. It made her endlessly lonely, lying there in the grass and staring up at the darkness. Fireflies blinked into view all around her, dancing above her and filling in some of the blank spaces between the stars. She didn't know why, but they made her sad, too, their cheerful dance echoing something that was so important to her and yet so, so forgotten. In the midst of this calm, peaceful place she found that whatever was missing made her unspeakably heartbroken, like a piece of her was lost somehow, torn from her unwillingly to leave her grieving, bereft and alone.

Autumn lay in the clearing and started to cry, tears welling up in her eyes until it became too much, the loneliness too great, and they spilled over the brim to roll down the side of her face. She felt them roll into her hair, dampening the curls drop by drop, warm against her shivering skin. It wasn't cold, but her body shuddered, her arms aching with some unmet need she could not place and could not name. Autumn cried because _something_ had been taken from her, and she couldn't bear the thought that she might lose it forever without even being able to remember what it was.

A soft, solitary howl pealed across the air, carrying to her from far away, a wolf in the distance keening in a distress that matched her own. The sound seemed to shatter something within her and she sat up, gasping at the sheer force of the pain it brought.

She blinked blearily as she looked around her room, the covers tangled between her legs as she clutched a hand to her chest, her heart beating rapidly from the aftereffects of the dream. Already the contents of what had troubled her in her slumber were fading from her mind, leaving her unable to recall what had startled her so, but she felt a deep sense of disquiet nonetheless, the memories missing while the emotions remained.

Cullen let out a pitiful groan next to her, turning over to throw his arm around her waist. “S'wrong, love?” he mumbled sleepily. The warmth of his arm wrapped around her chased away her strange apprehension, and replaced it with blissful affection. She smiled down at him, running her fingers through his hair before settling back into the bed.

“Nothing, love. Just a nightmare, I think.” she murmured, nestling herself in the crook of his arm. He obliged her by rolling onto his side, curving his body around hers and pulling her close.

He kissed the back of her neck lightly. “Alright?” he asked.

“Alright.” she replied, sleep already creeping back up to claim her. She sighed happily as her heart soared with her love for him, a small smile easing her back into rest that was dreamless this time, whatever strange feeling that had awoken her already gone from her mind.

 


	102. BOOK

Hey all!!!

This is not a real chapter, but a quick update to announce to all my AO3 lovelies that my first novel is officially out and in the wild!!

You can find more information on my tumblr, and direct links at the following tumblr page: http://zombolouge.tumblr.com/ZomBarber

The book is technically dedicated to everyone on AO3 that ever commented on one of these fics. Please know that you were all a part of the creation of this novel, as you were all a part of helping me grow and gain confidence as a writer. 

 

<3

**Author's Note:**

> I really want to give a nod to the fic that sparked a lot of the ideas I got for this one and really inspired me to get writing this whole big mess. It's seriously one of my favorite fanfictions ever and I hope they don't mind me posting a link here or taking inspiration from them. 
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/series/206828
> 
>  
> 
> For anyone that enjoys the reader comments: I apologize, this fic was updated and the chapters were re-ordered a bit, so the comments might be out of place in some parts. So if somebody says something and they sound like they don't know what they're talking about, they were right in the past so it's fine. :p


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